


Walking on Broken Glass

by AndromedaM31



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: And a little bit in the beginning, CS in the Background, DQ in the background, Everyones Got Jealousy issues, Except Zelena?, F/F, Jealous Emma Swan, Jealous Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Mariatal Rape, Past DragonQueen, Post-Season/Series 04 AU, SQ Endgame, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:09:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 90,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28814679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndromedaM31/pseuds/AndromedaM31
Summary: One year after the Dark Fairy's curse Snow is meddling again. like she always is and throws a party for Emma and Hook in an attempt to help mend the secret cracks in their marriage that are becoming more and more obvious. An unexpected invite shakes the foundations of the life they were all pretending to be content living. After witnessing first hand the extent of Regina's damage during their trip to Hell, Emma finds the new wedge between them impossible to navigate. But after years of hiding behind words unsaid, coming clean may be harder than they expect.The present is set postseason, but there are flashbacks to an altered Villian's arc and an altered Storrybrooke Hell arc. Some DragonQueen (Because honestly after "Enter the Dragon" how could I not)  but Swan Queen is endgame through an through so bear with.-This fic has been rattling in my head for months so there will be a LOT of angst and fluff (if you squint). That being said please check the TW at the beginning of each chapter. This isn't meant to be an overly dark fic, but it does touch on some pretty dark elements and I don't really gloss over very much.
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Comments: 53
Kudos: 144





	1. Cry Dancing

**Author's Note:**

> So this has been rattling around my head for ages and has literally demanded my attention since rewatching OUAT. It's going to be quite long (I literally lack the ability to write a short fic) and I've mapped the whole thing out, but I've got about a million projects going on right now so I will try my best to update frequently. As I mentioned in the summary this takes place primarily post-season, with AU Season 4/5. 
> 
> There is some slight Hook and Robin bashing, but honestly, what do you expect? Literally no Maleficent bashing though, she is a babe. 
> 
> Again, there are going to be some pretty explicit scenes of Domestic Abuse and Marital rape in later chapters, but I will give you a full warning and you can totally skip over them and still get the story.  
> Chapter Title is Cry Dancing, which is the song I imagine playing at the end.
> 
> Anywho, hope you enjoy! Xx

**CHAPTER 1**

“It’s not a _second_ wedding,” Snow insisted, pulling Neal away from the basket of apples he had sent rolling across the mayor’s desk. Regina stood, using the excuse to take herself out of Snow’s gaze long enough to frown deeply, and began picking them up off the floor taking more time than was necessary to gather her thoughts. 

She’d barely made it through the first wedding. That had been luck. Luck in the form of small mercies: the build-up to it had been swift, and frantic, and filled with other threats and distractions that she had managed to keep her emotions in check. Plus with the Black Fairy’s curse, there had been little time to mope around afterward. So her emotions had been kept in check by things that had very little to do with her own self-restraint. That was until she was forced to watch Emma - _her Emma_ \- walk down the aisle, in what could only be described as the most un-Emma dress she could have possibly imagined, and handed off to a husband who, in Regina’s option, was not worthy to even look at the Saviour. Let alone claim the remaining years of her life as his own. 

Only at that moment had the yearning hit her heart with such force that the treacherous organ seemed to fall down from her chest and shatter in her stomach. She remembers biting down on the inside of her mouth to keep her lips firmly shut against the rising bile. She’d chewed furiously on the spongy muscle of her cheek through the whole ceremony, pausing only to smile at Henry and to swallow the blood that coated her tongue when the couple kissed at the alter and her teeth slipped and bit down. 

“Wouldn’t-“ she started, before clearing her throat to remove any lingering emotion that may be thickening her tone, “Wouldn’t it be better to leave them in peace to celebrate their own anniversary? A surprise party thrown by your mother is hardly the definition of romance.”

“Well I would, but Emma - “ Snow paused, and Regina knew the look that settled over her former step-daughter’s face like she was grappling with a problem that she had no business meddling with. Which was never a good thing. And since it obviously involved Emma’s marriage, Regina was growing increasingly convinced she didn’t want to know. 

“But Emma what?” Regina asked, against her better judgment.

“Do you ever get the feeling that maybe...” Snow was avoiding her gaze as she spoke, “Do you think she might be...unhappy?” 

“Why would she be?” Regina asked, in honest earnestness, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair hoping the intimidating motion would mask how actively her eyes were searching Snow’s face for answers. 

“Oh,” She was deflated, and it suddenly clicked for Regina. Snow really didn’t know the answer to her own question and was hoping Regina would be the one to shed some light on the situation, “So she hasn’t said anything to you, then?”

“No. Why would she?”

“Because, Regina, you’re her _best friend._ She trusts you, more than anyone else, and I think that probably includes Hook. She’s practically lived with you and Henry the past few months, despite having a house with her husband. Which I know is something you two have done, you both need since we got back from Hell Storybrooke. I know there’s something you’re both not telling me about whatever happened down there that left you both thick as thieves.”

“I beg your pardon,” Regina growled, in her most intimidating Mayor Mills voice. 

Snow flinched, “Sorry. Probably not the best phrase to use.” She obviously thought she had insulted Regina because of Robin, and Regina wasn’t about to correct her. 

“My point is, you know her better than anyone. And I’m her mother, so I _know_ there is something going on with her and Hook.”

“Whatever issues you think they are having, they’re not going to be solved by throwing a ball.”

“I’m not trying to _solve_ anything. I just think that they could use a reminder of their love. And what’s a more romantic setting for that than a ball?” 

Regina expertly schooled her expression, willing her upper lip to resist its natural twitch of slipping into a sneer. This felt too much like meddling. There was a huge part of her that revealed in Emma’s crumbling marriage and was perfectly happy to let Snow pull at that thread. Quickly she realized that voice in her head. She knew it too well. And it usually led to decisions that left her hurt and alone and full to the brim of self-hatred and regret.   
  
So instead, she would have to grin and bear it.

 _For Emma’s sake._ That made it easier. 

“Fine,” She said, blowing out the word and rolling her eyes, “Fine. what do you want me to do?”

Snow beamed, “Yes! I just knew you would come around to the idea.”

“Wonderful,” Regina snarled sarcastically, “Well then, My first act as your royal party planner, is to convince you out of the idea of a formal ball. Emma would hate it.”

"So what are we going to do?"

"Leave that with me. You can just send out invites and keep your toddler out of my filing cabinets," Regina said nodding to behind Snow, as Neal dropped another full file of papers, sending them flying across the cold marble floor.

What had she signed up for?

\--

That was how she found herself sat on one of the cleaner bar stools in the Rabbit Hole. While she’d insisted the whole place have a temporary makeover for tonight’s party, there was some level of bar scum that no amount of magical cleaning and decorating could fully remove. She glanced up at the clock and scowled. Time was slowing down, she was sure of it. 

Dinner had been slightly less unbearable than she had anticipated. Which had nothing to do with her lingering distaste for this whole exercise, and had everything to do with Henry. Henry, who had abandoned his post at Emma’s side early in the evening to sit further down the picnic bench next to his adoptive mother. Dissuading Snow of throwing a gaudy ball had been easier than expected, and they’d happily settled on an alfresco buffet. The affair was classier than your average neighborhood barbecue (of course it was, Regina had helped plan it), but relaxed enough that Emma wouldn’t feel the pressure of being the daughter of a princess and could relax without the weight of pomp and circumstance. A net of glimmering lights had been hung in the park and Regina had conjured rows of picnic tables and crisp white table cloths and bouquets of late summer flowers. 

It had been picture perfect. 

Except, after her talk with Snow a week prior, Regina couldn’t shake the feeling that the picture was _not_ perfect. 

She’d barely said two words to Emma since the evening began. The blonde had remained dutifully glued to Hook’s side and seeing how Mary Margaret had invited half of StoryBrooke it was easy for Regina to take a permanent backseat in the crowd. She picked at a nonexistent loose thread on her dress. It had been a strange comfort, to wear in a formidable, decorative outfit. Like hiding behind a familiar mask. Her outfits as the Evil Queen had always provided a level of protection, and the number she was wearing now as doing the same. 

_”You can’t wear black to a wedding!” Zelena had said when Regina had gone over to collect her. Her sister had agreed to be her unofficial date for the evening, and Regina was so grateful to know that she wouldn’t be left alone to her own misery she had put up with the Wicked Witch’s teasing._

_”It’s not a wedding, it’s a party.” Regina said, smoothing over the velvet and viscose of her dress that was fitted and black with golden beaded trim and golden belt that was worthy of any Paris runway. The dip at the front was deep enough to touch past her cleavage, and the dip in the back was even deeper. After agonizing over what to wear, not wanting to go in the first place, she’d resisted the temptation to show up in a mayoral suit and blazer and swung in the opposite extreme. Her hair had been left down, grown down to shoulder level, and was a tamed tangle of natural curls and waves. If she was going to be miserable she didn’t want to have to worry about whether or not she looked good. She smirked._

_"Besides, I always wear black. And the dress code said formal party wear. Which means you will have to change out of that monstrosity,” She said, pretending to be disgusted by her sister’s outfit._

_The scandalized annoyance and subsequent laughter she received in return were enough to distract her for a few minutes. And today, every minute counted._

She was certainly counting the minutes now.

“Mind if I hide here with you?”

“I’m not - “ the lie died on her lips. Emma would be able to tell. So instead of telling falsehoods, she opted for silence on the subject, “If you don’t start smiling and at least pretend to be enjoying yourself, your mother is going to have a breakdown,” she said as the blonde slid onto the barstool next to her. She didn’t meet her gaze, instead followed Emma’s line of vision to where Henry was nervously dancing with Violet. For a moment her heart felt full. 

It was a while before Emma spoke, relaxing into their easy closeness, “I thought you of all people would enjoy a breakdown from my mother. After all, it has been a while,” She joked, bumping shoulders with her, “We could use the entertainment.”

“You’d think I would,” Regina said, playfully catching onto their easy banter, “But they’ve become a lot less enjoyable since I’ve had to start cleaning up after them afterward.”

“Awww, you’re no fun,” Emma teased.

“Quite the contrary, dear,” She let her voice dip into her slow sultry husk, showing a bit more of her teeth and winking, “I’m all kinds of fun.”

Emma smirked and her gaze swept over the woman beside her. Sometimes she’d do that it would make Regina’s blood run hot. She’d look her up and down, quickly enough to not be called out on it, but slowly enough that it was unmissable. Sometimes Regina would swallow her cowardice and look into Emma’s eyes after. And every time she would regret it because it would be followed by hours of convincing herself that the dilated pupils and the hunger in her darker-than-normal green eyes were merely a figment of her overactive and desperate imagination. 

“You look good. Is that an Enchanted Forrest brand?” Emma joked, Regina smirked and shook her head. 

“Bought it the last time I was in Boston when I was getting you that,” Regina said, gesturing to Emma’s expensive jumpsuit, a gift from Regina on her last birthday. 

“It’s nice. I don’t think I’ve ever owned something so nice,” She said as she smoothed out a crease in the navy fabric of her jumpsuit. 

“Well I couldn’t let you wear another bad dress,” Regina mumbled under her breath.

“What?” Emma said, not quite catching her words over the din of thumping bass. Regina fell silent, vowing to watch her tongue and maybe lay off the booze. 

Emma reached out and grabbed her hand, and Regina swallowed thickly. The alcohol in her system did nothing to help her firm determination to take no notice of how Emma’s closeness made her heart leap in her chest.

“Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?” Regina asked gently, melting slightly at the blonde's gaze and wondering desperately how long was she going to have to live like this.

“I saw Mary Margret’s party plans a few weeks ago. She really is _terrible_ at keeping secrets.”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me, dear,” Regina said, with mock darkness. They both laughed lightly, marveling how far they’ve come that they can easily make light of the past. 

“Anyway, the plans were, well, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful but they were terrible. Awful. Exactly the type of thing I would have hated. So you can imagine how pleasantly surprised I was tonight.”

“Your mother - “

“I know you planned it. Or at least fixed her plans so they would be bearable. This,” She said gesturing to the pub, a collection of tables where people were relaxing with drinks and snacks next to a large area that had been cleared for dancing. Not the ballroom nonsense of Emma’s first wedding, but the free and unstructured enjoyment of modern movement, “This is more my scene.” Emma laughed bitterly, “More my scene than my actual wedding. So - uh, thanks.”

“I'm glad,” she said honestly, “Do me a favour and try and enjoy it then. Instead of sulking over here with me.”

“So you *are* sulking. I knew it.”

Regina didn’t even honour her statement with a response.

“Well, I’d like to. But, there are a few problems with that plan,” Emma said, obviously leaving her sentence open-ended. 

Ah. There was the confession. Something _was_ wrong.

This is was her moment to ask what was bothering the savior. She knew what Emma was doing, opening the conversation up for Regina to step in and fulfill the role of the best friend, the trusted confidant she had somehow become. 

She didn’t ask.

Any interest Regina has in Emma’s relationship, as well-intentioned as she wanted to be, was always going to be a double-edged sword. A sharp dangerous double-edged sword that was going to leave them both cut up beyond repair. Their interests weren’t aligned, and as selfless as she had become these past years didn’t mean the impulse for selfishness was gone. The impulse to exploit weakness. If there was in fact weakness in her marriage, Regina didn’t trust herself not to jump on it.  
  
Which is why she never made room for the subject when Emma was around for dinner, or breakfast at Granny’s, or walks through the forest, or the weeks she had practically lived in the Mifflin Street mansion with no explanation. She knew that Emma had wanted her to ask. Knew by all the sad glances, and all the scathing remarks she’d make about her husband before looking pleadingly at Regina for approval. But she’d never given in to that particulate temptation, and she wasn’t going to start now. 

“There will be time for problem-solving. But tonight is about you two,” the words tasted like acid in her mouth, but she pushed forward, looking anywhere but Emma’s eyes, “You only get one first anniversary.”

Emma frowned, and caught Regina’s chin, green eyes boring into her own as she pulled her face closer, and the Queen’s breath caught in her throat at the intimate gesture. Neither moved and Emma seemed to be searching for something in her face while Regina was simply trying to remember how to breathe.

“Is that why you said you’re ‘skulking.’ You're not upset because,” Emma started, unsure, and lowered her voice to a quiet whisper, “because it’s a marriage thing?”

Oh. 

Another subject they had silently agreed not to entertain. She knew Emma wanted to, she had been itching for almost two years to finally address what had happened in Hell. It wasn’t that Regina had kept her at arm's length, she couldn’t bring herself to push the blonde away. But she would only accept sympathy in its leat obvious forms: a constant presence in her home, a guarantee of quiet safety when something in a movie would cause the brunette to flinch, a gentle squeeze on her arm when Snow would put her foot in her mouth, complete respect for her space, and a million other small gifts Emma gave her to soothe the wounds she hadn’t wanted to expose. But talk about it? That was something Regina couldn’t do. 

“No,” Regina shook her head, recoiling slightly, “No, that’s not it.”

Emma didn’t look convinced but pulled back allowing space to settle between them.

“We can go home if you want? I could go for a nightcap, and your cider is better than whatever I’m drinking.” 

Home. Mifflin street. Where Emma might as well add her name to the lease for the amount of time she had been spending there. That was the only place she could have been talking about, Regina having no place in 

The idea of trading the flashing lights and dodgy barstools of the venue for warm lamplight and Italian furniture with silk cushions was wonderfully appealing. Not that her surroundings make much difference as long as Emma was there, but she couldn’t deny the warmth that would spread through her chest at the sight of the woman nestled on the opposite end of her couch. She would rest her legs on Regina’s lap the way she had a hundred times before, but the older woman’s stomach would still spark alive and she would thank herself for only turning on one light, the duskiness hiding her rising blush. They would settle into a comfortable silence, and she would shut her eyes, breathing in the scent of her sweet crisp apple cider mixing with spicy cinnamon. 

Mary Margret’s words snuck into her golden-washed daydream _“She’s practically lived with you and Henry the past few months, despite having a house with her husband.”_

A house, she had said. Not a home. 

“I’m afraid not, dear. This is your party, you can’t leave this early.”

That had been an hour ago, and against her secret wishes that she wouldn’t, Emma had taken her advice and was dancing with her husband to the loud music. And Regina had wound up back in her trusty barstool checking the time every few seconds. She’d mingled well past her social limit; sitting in one of the remaining booths with the Charmings, toasting goodnight with her sister, and loosening her natural inhibition enough to dance with Henry. They had made quite the pair, spinning to *You Make my Dreams Come True.* She’d given him her best impression of The Sprinkler. He had smiled so broadly that the giggles of passers-by at the Evil Queen busting moves from the eighties didn’t bother her at all. 

Each was enough to distract her for a few minutes.

And today, every minute counted. 

But eventually, her gleeful energy had run out, and her heartache would suffer no more distractions. So the sticky leather, with its grime filled cracks and squeaking swivel and uneven base, had surprised her with its comfort. The top shelf Mezcal burned down her throat, and she welcomed the warmth it brought and how it diffused the confusion in her head. Leaning into the blissful unawareness she kept at it until she was very close to officially crossing the line into 'drunk' territory and glaring openly at the slowly ticking clock above the bar. 

Which meant she didn’t notice her new companion until she spoke, causing the brunette to jump slightly in her seat. 

“Rough night?”

“Is there something about the way I’m sitting here that looks like an invitation to annoying blondes to invade my peace?” Regina quipped, looking up to meet crystal blue eyes. Maleficent gave her a pointed look that Regina knew meant she wouldn’t be frightened of. She sighed, defeatedly gesturing to the empty seat beside her, “I’ve had worse. This is a party - not exactly a trip to Hell.”

“And you would know,” Maleficent responded. She settled into the uncomfortable seat, grimacing in her distaste. She was in a tasteful halterneck jumpsuit, embroidered with purple thread gleaming in metallic stripes. Hair up, she was every inch of formidable height and beauty that had once drawn a young queen to her so effortlessly. 

Regina hummed, and with a flick of her wrist, the remaining bottle of Mezcal and another tumbler appeared on the bar between them. 

“Come, my pet raven, tell me what’s bothering you.”

Regina’s lips twitched into a small smile at the nickname, quirking an eyebrow with mock disapproval, “I meant to ask; have you watched the Disney Sleeping Beauty.”

“And watch a cartoon version of myself suffer defeat at the hands of that insolent brat? I think not, pet.”

“Well, dear, you might want to before you keep using that nickname.”

“Pet Raven?” Mal asked, eyebrows rising and smirking with mischief before her voice dropped an octave and she leaned into Regina’s space, “I seem to recall you really, _really,_ liking it. Sometimes... even begging me to call you my pet.”

Regina shivered, and she was unsure if the smoky scent that filled her nostrils was from the mezcal or Mal. 

“I just think, if you saw it, you might reconsider how complimentary you think you’re being when you call me that. I don’t exactly take well to being compared to that a scraggly rat of a bird.”

“I can speak from personal experience you are the furthest thing from, my gorgeous creature,” 

She looked coyly over her shoulder, enjoying the compliments and the easy flirting that was instinctual between the pair. 

Clearing her throat, she quickly changed the subject, “I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Well, Lily wanted to visit for a while. Emma invited us both. We skipped dinner, not sure how the drivel you call citizens would take our presence. But, everyone seems drunk enough here not to care.”

“They might surprise you. If I can win them over, I’m sure you can. You didn’t curse them and their families.”

“But you did it so beautifully,” Mal said, not attempting to hide that she was flirting, “Of course they’d forgive you. We will see,” she hesitated, and Regina couldn’t believe that she might be seeing uncertainty in those usually confident blue eyes, “Dance with me.”

“Absolutely not. That is hardly a waltz.” She said, gesturing to the dance floor where people were dancing in ways that would be considered obscene in the Enchanted Forest to the overly sexual music. She was grateful Henry was practically asleep in the booth with his grandparents. 

“I’m sure you are perfectly competent in this world’s version of dancing.”

Regina was going to protest that she absolutely did not, but the lie died on her lips. There had been a night just over a year ago, while her Evil half had been terrorising the town and Henry was nervous about his homecoming ball. Emma was around more nights than not, glued to her side and determined to protect her from the threat of the Evil Queen and to chase off bad memories. She had commandeered her stereo system, pumping out pop tunes that she insisted would be played at any High School dance, and taught Henry how to dance. Emma had pulled her from the couch, a music video on her big screen and they had all three had tried to follow the moves with their feet and hips. Her living room held the echoes of the laughter of that evening for weeks and she had basked in it during her lowest moments. 

“Humour me,” Mal insisted, standing from her seat and pulling Regina out of her memory. 

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you have nothing to lose.”

Regina opened her mouth to object, face indignant. 

“ _And,_ ” Mal continued, before placing her hands on the bar on either side of Regina and leaning slowly forward until their faces were inches apart. Familiar red lips whispered, “Because Emma Swan is looking like she might explode at the sight. Surely you want to show her what she’s missing.”

Regina’s eyes flitted over the taller woman’s shoulders, eyes easily finding the Saviour amongst the crowds (years of practice of finding Emma). Their son was talking to her from his slumped position in the booth, but Emma wasn’t listening, eye’s meeting Regina’s through the dizzying crowd. The Mayor swallowed and what she saw in the Saviour’s gaze, and adverted her eyes quickly. 

“I - I don’t know what you mean,” Regina bluffed hopelessly returning her attention to the woman leaning over her, knowing Mal had already seen right through her. 

“Now, my pet. You can’t lie to me.”

_But with you, Regina, I can always tell when you’re lying._

Maleficent gave her another look, one that clearly communicated she knew exactly who Regina was thinking about. Their back and forth playfulness fell away, and Regina knew Mal was boing serious when she said, “Regina. You know I care for you. I can’t erase your heartache but I can help you break out of this cycle I’ve watched you spiral in for the past three years,” She smirked, “Besides...as I’m sure you’re aware, I once had a very long term personal investment in your enjoyment. I can extend that for another night if you want.”

Regina’s voice was thick, eyes flitting between Mal’s, considering her options, “I didn’t realise you had such a thorough coverage plan.”

“Don't you trust me?”

“Alright, fine,” Regina said slowly, grinning, pushing off the stool, not breaking eye contact with the taller woman who loomed over the smaller brunette, even with the added height of her signature black heels. Maybe this was what she needed. Even though her heart was firmly attached to the Saviour, she couldn’t pine and yearn alone forever. The Dragon sorceress was hardly uncharted territory, so there was no risk.

The music was slow enough that she was able to relax into the sway of her hips. This was a game she could play - had played with Maleficent. No one could deny they had chemistry. Scorching (and obnoxiously obvious) chemistry. When Maleficent had returned from the dead, she received enough comments from her family to know that they had picked up on it. Everyone except Emma, who hadn’t said a word on the subject other than she didn’t trust her. It was familiar. Mal was intoxicating as always, she reeked of flaming danger and Regina had a nasty habit of playing with fire. Hands slipped from her hair, traced down her neck, ghosted her chest, and settled to grip firmly at her waist to pull her closer as they moved to the music, making eyes at each other and taking part in the chase. Regina gasped as a hand slipped over her stomach, caressed her hipbones, and teased the dip at the top of her thigh. 

“You’re wound so tightly, my pet. Has it been so long that Robin was your last?” Mal said in her deepest voice, humming appreciatively as she mapped out the intimate geography of her ex-lover. Something cold slipped under Regina’s mask and Mal noticed the change through the changing lights, dutifully pulling her hand away.

“It wasn’t Robin. In Hell - before Robin died - there was...”

“Oh, raven,” Mal said in understanding, taking her hands from her waist and affectionately brushing dark curls out of brown eyes. She had been there, in the Enchanted Forrest. She knew there was only one thing that could make Regina’s eye’s dim like that. Years of her life were spent cleaning and healing those wounds, that she would recognise their scarring. Possessive protection that reminded Regina of Emma filled her eyes and she took one of her hands in her own and kissed her knuckles. 

“Enough of that. I’ve helped you forget before. I can again,” Mal smirked, knowing her offer would not be refused now. 

“Well, I’m waiting. Get on with it, then” she baited, teasing, draping her arms over the blonde's shoulders, pressing closer. 

Mal didn’t have to be told twice and didn’t waste any time leaning down to capture dark red lips. It was fierce and Regina couldn’t deny the relief the kiss was bringing. She thought she heard someone gasp, but her intoxicated brain and her racing blood didn’t allow space for anything else but the feeling of being held. A feeling she had almost forgotten, exchanged it for a lifetime of longing and unrequited. 

And it was bliss to not have to think about that or think about anything, for a minute. She couldn’t remember the last time her mind quieted. She’d been looking for a distraction. And if she had to go slipping back into old habits, Mal was hardly the worst one she could choose. When they finally came apart for air, she glanced and the clock above the bar for the hundredth time that night, and smiled. Since Mal had sat next to her, twenty minutes had passed in the blink of an eye. 

And today, every minute counted. 

The taller blonde leaned in again, but Regina’s mothering instincts took a glance to Henry, whose face was frozen in an expression of equal parts embarrassment, amusement, and horror. 

“Not here,” Regina pulled back just enough to breathe the words into the hot air between them. 

“We can leave,” Mal suggested.

Regina nodded, “Subtly, dear.”

“Why of course,” Mal schemed, and Regina knew what that voice meant, and what the raising of her hands meant. Her jaw dropped, and she laughed.

“That is NOT subtle!” But her objection fell on deaf ears as a cloud of purple smoke wisped them away from the party and away from prying eyes.

\--

“Swan? Swan? Love, are you okay?” Killian shook her out of her trance for only a second. She nodded at him, before shaking off his stifling grip and looked back to the final whips of purple smoke. 

“Ew, ew, ew, Ewwww” Henry said, shaking his head and pretending to try to grab Emma’s drink from her hand, “Ma, you have to give me some of that. I need to forget this. I'm scarred for life.”

Emma moved the glass out of his reach, not really listening to her son or her mother’s laughter. 

“Well,” Snow said gleefully, clapping her hands together in a way that was so like an overexcited princess, “That was a surprise. Nice to see Regina enjoying herself.”

“It a good thing you’re staying with us tonight, Henry,” David said, and Emma bit the inside of her mouth to stave off the wave of jealousy the comment elicited, “Give them time to catch up.” David winked at his grandson.

“EW! Oh my god. Please stop! that's my Moooom,” Henry whined, burying his head in his arms on the table. His dramatics, while honest in their mortification, were coloured with obvious amusement at the whole situation. He poked his head out enough though to glance at his birth mother. 

She didn’t like the look he was giving her at all. It was full of pity and understanding and too much damn wisdom for a teenager to have. Pulling her eyes away, she couldn’t help but look back to where she had been staring. 

“Emma?” Mary Margret asked, tugging lightly at her daughter’s arm, drawing her gaze from the empty space on the dance floor, “You okay?”

“Regina,” she swallowed, trying not to let her voice betray her, trying to pass it off as casual interest, “I didn’t know she’s interested in women?”

And suddenly the something clicked in Snow’s mind, so suddenly she was convinced she could actually hear the pieces fitting together. For someone who claimed to know love the way Snow White did, she couldn’t believe this had slid past her. The wardrobe in the guest bedroom at Mifflin street help more clothes than her closet. The unhappy reluctance of surrendering to a persistent husband. The fact she didn’t do anything unless Regina approved. Or that she wouldn’t eat lunch at her desk, opting to cross the street to the Mayor’s office. Sacrificing herself and becoming the Dark One. 

“Oh. _Oh!_ ”


	2. Dancing With Your Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm actually overwhelmed with all the lovely comments and kudos! They really inspired me to write this week and I'm super proud of this chapter and how it turned out. The last chapter was much more of a prologue than anything else and this is closer to the format I'll be using for the next few chapters. I think it makes sense seeing as we are following two timelines. One is the present Second-Wedding world, the other is the Storybrooke Underworld arc. However, that will also be littered with snippets of fluff and other memories. 
> 
> Essentially, I'm trying to stay true to the style of the show in that respect, but it is slightly difficult with writing. So I hope it comes across and isn't too confusing. Mostly because I have a VERY elaborate net planned out and I'd be sad if any of it got missed.
> 
> The Song that inspired this Chapter is "Dancing With Your Ghost" by Sasha Sloan
> 
> The painting I mention, 'The Death of Princes Tarakanoff" (the 1864 version) is actually one of my favorite pieces of art and it just seemed so perfect for this. Anyway, here a link if your interested in art. Take from it what you will: http://www.thefamousartists.com/konstantin-flavitsky/the-death-of-the-princess-tarakanoff 
> 
> Hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> Xx

  
Emma couldn’t pinpoint the specific moment when it happened. Real-life was like that. Revelations were gradual, and sudden change often had a long history of carefully crafted actions that allowed for a shift. Usually, one catalyst got all the credit, but Emma knew it was never that simple. It’s not like the sun just appeared in the sky each morning. The Earth had to spin a whole one hundred-and-eighty degrees, the sky had to float through a spectrum of colours all to arrive at the point that looked so different from the night that came before. Even if Emma had slept through it all, only to wake up late and scramble into the midmorning light, rushed and underprepared.

That was exactly how it had happened with Regina. 

They had been going through their day to day routine of saving the world when all the little moments finally arrived in front of her complete, and ready to be faced for what they were. Love. And when Emma had finally seen what their relationship had been orbiting towards, it had hit her like a semi-truck. 

She just wished she hadn’t been driving when she’d finally figured it out, because she had then, quite literally, almost been hit by a semi-truck. The universe was losing its subtlety. Though how it happened was proof it kept its love for symbols. 

  
**Glossy pamphlets sat in cracked plastic display racks, wavy and damp from the rain, the print rubbing free from soft paper over creases caused by passing tourists who picked them up in vague interest. Emma was no tourist and had never taken much notice of them in the many times she had passed the stall on her frequent trips down Park Row towards City Hall. As a PI she had no reason for the trips to the gleaming white municipal building that dominated City Park, but she found herself sat outside it often.**

**If she needed advice, or comfort when she was upset, or whenever she felt alone, or when the pressure of raising a kid was too much, or every Tuesday lunchtime, she would find herself on the same bench, feet kicking in the mud, watching as city officials came and went from its intimidating doors. She was searching for someone. Intently staring at each face that graced the pearly white steps. she found herself constantly disappointed when it was never the one she longed so deeply to see. What face that was she didn’t know. And she had convinced herself it didn’t matter because they never appeared. No matter if she sat there for an hour or three, morning or evening, she always left feeling lonelier than before, telling herself this was the last time as she dejectedly slumped home. Nevertheless, she knew she would be back.**

**Roadworks meant this particular night had been quiet, the din of traffic missing from the outskirts of the park. Through the unique silence, she heard something that pulled at her: the sound of heels clicking over marble steps in purposeful strides. The rhythmic clack reverberating through the trees made the answer seem so close, something lingering on the periphery of her mind. But all her mind could come up with was a screaming headache. So she had called it a day and headed home. Maybe that fresh dejection was why she stopped in front of the rickety billboard, pulling one pamphlet from its stack.**

**‘ _THE ME_ T’ was blazoned in bright white on the top corner of the flyer, and at the bottom, it read “ _Challenging the Faces of Women in Royalty. Limited Touring Exhibit_.” But it was the picture between that had caught her eye, a painting of a woman, clad in red silk pressed desperately against crumbling plaster. Dark waves of hair and pleading eyebrows jerked at her heart and tempted her foggy memory. Scanning the rest of the image, she took in the rats that scurried over soft silken bedspreads that were succumbing to rising water. It wasn’t the confusing surroundings of the woman that conquered Emma’s interest (though in no way were they fit for a princess), but the look of tragic power on the woman’s face as she tried fruitlessly to climb past impending doom, a look of despair that tugged on Emma’s heart. **

**The caption read, ‘ _The Death of Princess Tarakanoff - Konstantin Flavitsky (later version from 1984)._ ’**

**She’d booked a ticket immediately, paying much more than it was worth to the slimy vendor who hid behind smeared handprints on scratched plastic screens. She and Henry did sometimes cross over into the side of New York that was engineered more towards tourists than its residents, so she could easily pass off this outing as one of those mother-son days and not an impulse spurred by a painting of a princess. It wasn’t until she got home, that she realised she had only booked one ticket and had to pay an overpriced fee for a re-sale that had the same time slot as her’s to cover the mistake.**

**“Tell me again why we’re spending your only day off at a museum?” Henry had asked, as they made their way to the exhibit's decorative entrance, "The new Elder Scrolls game came out last week and GameStop finally restocked. Do you have any idea how long it took me to get them to put one on reserve for me? I even had to use the face _...twice”_**

**He pulled his best puppy-dog face and Emma laughed a little too loudly for the revered hush of a museum.**

**“We’ll swing by on the way back. And I thought you liked history?”**

**“I do,” he said, looking at the brochure again, “But princesses? I’d understand more if it was about knights.”**

**“Look, there’s some cool armour in that exhibit, we can go afterward. But I’ve bought tickets for this, so at least try.”**

**“Can I get a sword replica from the gift shop?”**

**“Maybe, if you behave. Look there’s a knight in that one,” Emma said, pointing to a smaller portrait that was on the back of the pamphlet. It was of a woman, glowing in a dress as white as snow, knighting a hero kneeling at her feet.**

**“The Accolade, by Edmund Leighton,” Henry read from the brochure, and Emma could see his interest had finally been captured, “Yeah I guess, I’ll go find that one, maybe there are more with knights. But I still think GameStop would have been a better bonding trip.”**

**“Hey,” Emma said, putting on her best stern voice, ”It’s educational. Your mom would be proud.”**

**He had furrowed his brows in confusion but laughed lightly at her mistake that even she couldn’t explain with anything other than a simple malfunction between her brain and her mouth.**

**Grinning he said, “YOU are my mom.”**

**“Yeah,” she said, shooing him into the exhibit. She’d laughed it off with him, but she knew with inexplicable certainty that she hadn’t been talking about herself.**

**Emma didn’t know much about art. The way people gushed about it had always been out of her grasp and she never had the interest to figure out what it was that made people spend more money than she would ever see in a lifetime on dusty pictures. They were always stale and cardboard to her eyes, and don’t get her started on modern art; she much preferred to look at the real world.**

**Until now. Her breath caught in her throat as she rounded the corner into the purposefully dimmed room.**

**It was enormous, taking up an entire wall, and the miniature version in her hand was nothing compared to its captivating original. She was beautiful and it felt so real. As if its dynamic light was streaming from behind a window and Emma was a voter gazing through its panes. So much more than strokes on stretched fabric stretched over a wooden frame. She was horrified to discover that she was reaching out to touch the luminous canvas, stopped only by the brief blaring of a wireless alarm and a disgruntled security officer barking at her from the corner in a thick New York accent, “Can’t you read? It says no touching.”**

**So she stood, captivated, taking no notice of the other museum-goers or that the minute hand on her watch had taken a whole lap of its face.**

**“You’re still only at the beginning?!” Henry whined from behind her, “I’m hungry. Can we go to the gift - “**

**He broke off, settling next to Emma, his eyes settling on the enormous painting.**

**“Woah,” he breathed, “I missed this one. She looks familiar.** **Hey, do we know anyone from 18th century Russia?"**

**“I think art is meant to make you feel like that,” Emma said, convincing Henry as much as herself. But her son was right - something about this was familiar. She just couldn’t pinpoint what, but part of her uneasiness was soothed by Henry’s similar reaction.**

**“Since when did you know about art?” He said bumping his mother with his shoulder, but neither of them could tear their gaze away from the woman in the painting.**

**“I don’t. That’s why we’re here, kid.”**

**“Maybe my first-grade teacher?” Henry said, craning his head to the side, his young eyes trying to decipher who the woman was. Emma tried to conjure the memory of Henry’s old teachers, but the headache from the night before returned in full, and she gave up.**

**“C’mon, kid. Gift shop, lunch, then, as promised, GameStop,” Emma said guiding him away from the exhibit, and resisting some strange urge to reach into the painting and pull the distressed woman from it and bring her with them on their family outing.**

That particular memory joined the jumble when she got her real memories back. Forgotten in the mess of what had really happened, her time in New York, her real life, and the snippets of Regina’s life with a younger Henry that she had affectionately slipped into her memory spell. It was all too much to sort through, so instead of investing the time to do so, she pushed it all aside. Like the junk drawer in her kitchen, ignored and out of sight but always seemed to contain what Emma needed if she could only start to sort through it all. 

Later, when Regina had been going through the glovebox of her yellow bug on their drive to New York, grimacing at the tacky grime that coated its contents and throwing away anything she decided was rubbish, had it finally made sense. Lily was asleep in the back seat, and Emma could barely make out the woman in her passenger seat, catching her only fleetingly out of the corner of her eye whenever the car slipped through the orange beam of a streetlamp. The night smelt heavy, in that way that was exclusive to long car journeys that stretched into the final hours of the evening.

“This candy bar expired two years ago, Emma,” Regina had said, crinkling her nose in distaste before forcing it into the paper bag from their drive-through dinner that was beginning to tear at the weight of all the trash Regina had collected. 

“Hey, don’t throw that away. Candy doesn’t expire, and I will need a snack if I’m going to drive through the night.”

“Absolutely not. You can get a new, in-date one next time we need gas,” Regina reprimanded, taking the paper bag firmly out of Emma’s reach. 

Emma pouted, “Fine, but you’re buying.”

“What's this?” Regina asked, returning to rifling through the glove compartment. It took a few attempts of Emma trying to look over to catch Regina in one of their fleeting moments of lamplight to see what she was holding. But when she did, she froze. She hadn’t seen the pamphlet since she got her memories back, tucked firmly between the owner's manual and a collection of too many parking tickets. 

Side-by-side, they weren’t actually that similar, physically at least. But still, Emma knew then what she saw in that painting that had her frozen in captivation. It was the spirit of hopeless hope infused in the golden light and tempting dark shadows. Straining against the despair and darkness, trying even in sorrow to save herself. And she had wanted to reach into the piece and pull her from it into the day-today of happy family life.

All those aimless trips to City Hall, looking for someone who worked there. The Mayor. Not the Mayor of New York, but subconsciously hoping the Regina would descend those steps, annoyed from a frustrating day of solving problems for ungrateful citizens, flicking her hair over her shoulders and grumbling at the ground. 

The perfect life that Regina had given her, and the only thing that had been missing, the only thing that had to power to make Emma turn away from it, was her. Because no life she could build, either magically or by going through the drudge of every day like everyone else, would be perfect without Regina. Every little moment, lingering glance, and tentative smile made sense now. 

She’d slept through the biggest gradual change of her life, through lingering glances of affection, through electric shocks of magic and attraction and stomachs full of butterflies, as she sleeps through the sunrise. And it was now clear as day. She was in love with Regina. 

_Fuck._

Suddenly, a blaring horn and bright headlights pulled her from her revelation. She was still driving. 

“Emma!” Regina chastised, reaching out to grab the wheel and pulling them back into their lane, narrowly avoiding the oncoming semi-truck, “For heaven's sake, that’s twice on this trip you’ve almost killed us behind the wheel. Do you drive like this with Henry in the car?”

Emma frowned, shaking her head, pulling her eyes away from Regina. 

“Sorry, that was unfair. You’re usually a good driver...when you're not crashing into my ‘Welcome to Storybrooke’ sign,” Regina mumbled, taking her hand from the wheel and placing it on Emma’s shoulder, squeezing encouragingly before retracting, and Emma mourned the loss of contact, “Maybe we should stop for the night.”

“Hmmm,” Emma hummed, lost in thought and shoulder burning at the touch. 

“I’ve never been to an art gallery,” Regina said softly, after a pause, flipping through the pages of the brochure with keen interest, before grimacing at _The Accolade, "_ Although I don't like this one. How insufferably righteous."

Emma laughed, not wanting to tell Regina that it reminded her of Snow and Charming, “Well if all goes well in New York, we can go.”

Regina smiled sadly, reminded of their trip and Emma caught the look that crossed her face as they flew through another flash of orange light. 

It would have been so easy to say, “You know what? Yes, let’s stop for the night.” They would check into a hotel (no way would Regina agree to a Super 8), Emma would spend the night getting her thoughts together, and tell Regina she loved her over orange juice, bad coffee, and a breakfast of hotel waffles. 

Strained eyebrows, so like those of Princes Tarakanoff, and sad eyes stopped the Saviour from indulging in her daydream. The woman beside her was fighting so hard for her happiness, could Emma be so selfish to ruin it all again? Regina had put in such a rare position of trust, and she needed her to take her to New York to save Robin from Zelena. She needed her to help her find her Happy Ending and Emma had eagerly agreed to Operation Mongoose. Regina did _need_ her...just not like this. 

Visions of her imagination faded into the dark expanse of sky above the freeway: Regina scowling at Emma’s third trip to the waffle maker, of sliding her hand across cheap tablecloths to hold one of Regina’s as she sipped black coffee from a squat mug that held scarcely more than a mouthful, of pressing her against the dated textured wallpaper of a long hallway of endless doors and covering red lips with her own as she would fumble to get the keycard into the door handle so they could tumble onto borrowed sheets. 

Focus trained firmly on the road, trying desperately to not give into the sting in her eyes, she took a deep breath. Her mother had told her love was sacrifice, but she never felt it like she was feeling it now. 

“Hey, it's okay. We’ll drive through.”

\--

** Present Day **

Scratching at the flaking plastic film of the cheaply-made desk, having abandoned any attempt to hide that she wasn’t doing any work, it was Emma’s turn to watch the clock. It was early in the week and crime in Storybrooke had finally come to a delightful lull. A lull that would have been welcome and appreciated after almost five years of chaos, but the Saviour craved something to pull her out of this funk and impending danger had always been reliable in the respect. But it was a quiet Tuesday. And Tuesday meant lunch with Regina. If she was being perfectly honest with herself, she knew that, unofficially, almost every day meant lunch with Regina. But Tuesday was _their_ day. Having had taken the Monday off as part of her long weekend “celebrations,” and she hadn’t seen her in four days. She couldn’t remember the last time she had gone four days without seeing the brunette, not since Hell. Not since...

She should be excited. Mornings always dragged in anticipation, the sheriff distracted from her duties by simply waiting to bask in Regina’s presence. Most of the time, she had spent the night in the guest room of the mansion anyway, but the brief six hours between dropping Henry off at school before parting ways on Main Street seemed like too long to be away from her side. So one can imagine how infinitely tedious the past four days had passed. Begrudgingly, Emma had to admit she needed the space, having used the excuse of a ‘second honeymoon weekend’ to hide. Not that her weekend resembled any sort of honeymoon. Far from it. It had been strained and awkward and uncomfortable to spend so much time with Killian. But it was better than replaying the events of the party over and over in her mind's eye. Now, with their impending meeting, it was all Emma could think about. 

She was afraid she might follow in Zelena’s footsteps and start turning green. Images of the intimidating figure of Malifeceint leaning over Regina, and dark brown eyes alight with excitement at the challenge. She’d watched as she was practically lifted to her feet and pulled close, and Emma felt betrayed in more ways than just the obvious because _she had taught her those dance moves_. They were meant for her eyes only, and certainly not meant to be felt so closely by anyone but her. Though they quickly became the least of her worries, Strong hands that she had longed to hold we wound in someone else’s blonde hair, and someone else’s lips were pressed against the ones that had held a special place in Emma’s dreams. The world seemed to slow and narrow and she’d never felt heartbreak like it because a tiny voice in her mind taunted her, _So you did have a chance._ A chance that was now gone because of the wedding band that pinched at her finger, and because of the blonde witch that Regina was looking at with fire and lust as they disappeared to continue their evening away from prying eyes. 

“Ouch! Damn it,” she swore sharply, recoiling her hand. Seething thoughts had her scratching so angrily her finger had slipped, sending a splinter of deep beneath her nail and into the sensitive skin beneath. She pouted at the sight of blood and sucked on the painful fingertip. 

Could this day get any worse?

Across the station, David looked from his sandwich, disturbed by her outburst, “What did the desk ever do to you?”

“Other than confine me to endless hours of boring paperwork?” She said, shaking her hand and debating if kicking the offending furniture would be too immature for a woman of her age. 

“Well, don’t pick it to pieces. Regina won’t buy you a new one. She wouldn’t even let me get a new chair,” David laughed.

Emma couldn’t help but laugh at the memory of her father. All Charming swagger, jacket thrown over his shoulder as he boasted about his latest criminal catch. Suave words turned into a yelp of surprise as he had leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head, and there was an unholy crack as he tumbled back into a shelving unit. Her mother had tried to cover her amusement by rushing to his side to rescue him from a pile of office supplies, but her whole face was red with repressed amusement. Emma and Henry had collapsed to the floor in heaps of hysterics, and even Regina, who had raised a distasteful eyebrow, wore a smirk and lightly shaking shoulders. 

“I think she just likes being mean with the budgets because she doesn’t get to be mean about anything else,” David said, shooting the aforementioned chair a look of disdain where it sat abandoned in the corner of the room. 

“We’ve all got to have hobbies,” Emma said with a shrug.

“Considering her hobbies, I prefer this one,” David said with no lingering malice in his voice, “Speaking of Regina... it’s Tuesday. Shouldn’t you be on your way?”

_Damn it, David._

Fisting her hands into the pockets of her red leather jacket she trudged from the station to Granny’s to collect the order she knew would be waiting for her to collect. Once, and only once, Regina had allowed the younger woman to be the one to phone in their order, but after having to collect more food than she could carry, a bill that reflected upscale dinner and drinks not diner food, and a reprimand of, “There are no vegetables here, Emma.”... Well after that, she had lost the privilege.

Until today, apparently. Because when she pushed on the cool brass of the faded door, blinds clattering and bell jingling, there was no paper bag on the counter with a post-it note that read ‘Regina & Emma.’

“And here I was thinking you all must have died. No call today. I guess she’s letting you order?” Granny asked, not looking up from her notepad, glasses balancing crookedly on the end of her nose, before turning to glare over them, “I don’t want a repeat of last time. I’ve only got two people in the kitchen and you messed up our stock for days.”

Well, that did nothing to ease her already racing nerves. Regina hadn’t called to order lunch? The ten minutes it took for Granny to fill her order, she fidgeted like a child. Alternating between tapping her fingers on the counter and sighing, and when Granny would shoot her a glare from the order window, irritated be the distraction, she would flip through her phone. There was no message from Regina she had missed. She would know, she’d only checked about fifty times. No little text bubble that said, ‘Emma, dear, I thought I’d let you order. Don’t forget the fries,’ or ‘Running late, can you do 2:00 instead of noon?” Or, possibly the worst option, ‘Having lunch with Maleficent. See you tomorrow?’

Just nothing. So she was jittery and uncharacteristically hesitant when she stepped into the Mayor's office. 

“Emma?” Regina looked up from behind her desk wide eyes dawning with realisation at her mistake, “Oh, Emma, is that the time? I’m so sorry, I’ve been playing catch up all day. I thought I still had time to make the order.”

Relief flooded her tight chest, Regina hadn’t forgotten, she still wanted their tradition to continue. She may have had a lot going on in her mind and heart, but the happiness she found in filling her important role in the Mayor’s life filled her instantly. She almost skipped to the desk, smiling brightly and taking in the face she had missed for four long days. 

“It’s all good,” Emma said cheerily, holding the takeaway bag up, “I hope you like grilled cheese?”

Regina playfully rolled her eyes.

“Just kidding, I got you your salad and root beer. Oh, and I didn’t forget the fries.”

“Thank you, dear,” Regina said gratefully, taking the box from her and reaching into her desk for the bottle opener. 

“So,” Emma said, settling into her usual position across the polished mahogany desk, spinning in the chair, “What's so out of the ordinary that has had you so busy enough to forgot the most important part of the day?”

“Lunch is the most important part of the day? I pay you to protect the town and the most important thing you do is eat a grilled cheese?” Regina cocked an eyebrow, teasing, before shaking her head, “Nothing out of the ordinary, really. I just didn’t come to work yesterday. I knew it was a bad idea. Mal convinced me to take a long weekend and try and relax a little, and _now_ I’ve got an overflowing inbox with complaints, almost half of them from that infuriating dwarf - ‘

Emma had stopped listening as Regina went on about Leroy’s inability to be satisfied with anything. That tightness in her chest had returned tenfold, and her stomach felt like she had swallowed a lead brick.

Mal convinced her to take a long weekend. Relax a little.

She was going to vomit. 

Her own weekend had been anything but relaxing. Hook had been just a little too rough after the party, dragging her through the house she hated. He reeked of rum, his words were slurring, and when he called her ‘love’ it made her skin crawl. They had barely spoken the whole evening; Emma, as always, had been preoccupied with following Regina around the room, and Hook couldn’t have shown less interest in her if he tried. As his stubble brushed over her neck, she had fumbled her way though some excuse not to and thanked her lucky stars he was drunk enough that he easily settled for her finishing him off with her hand. He had collapsed in a foul heap of alcohol and apathetic coupling on top of their bed, asleep within seconds, taking no notice of the woman meant to be his wife.

Emma had lain still and stiff, stomach twisting in disgust and burning with jealousy. Because it was impossible not to think of the object of her affections locked in someone else’s embrace while she stewed angrily next to her husband. Where had they gone? Had Regina taken them back to the mansion. Back to their home? Was Maleficent going to eat breakfast in her seat at the table? She didn’t even know what Regina’s room looked like, and Maleficent was probably lounging in her inevitably expensive sheets, tracing the patterns on her ceiling. Did her ceiling even have patterns? 

And now... Regina was taking _days off_. 

She definitely was going to vomit.

“ - I mean it was HIS idea! I told him this would happen and lo and behold, _here we are_ ,” Regina finished, gesticulating her annoyance in a way that Emma would usually find endearing. Instead, Emma was stoic and still, her sandwich sat untouched and still wrapped in grease-stained paper between them. Regina eyed it warily, “Are you alright, dear?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Emma lied, giving the best smile she could muster to the woman across from her. The warm look she got in return was worth the lie, “Just a little tired.”

“Still hungover from Friday?”

“I wish I’d drunk enough to still be hungover,” Emma said, not really joking all that much, “Although I’d love to know how much you had to drink?”

Blinking owlishly, Regina tilted her head and Emma would have been overwhelmed with how adorable she looked if she wasn’t brimming with anxiety at the next, inevitable leg of their conversation. It was her duty as best friend to know about all romantic entanglements and she had been grateful she hadn’t had to fill that particular part of the role since Robin’s annoying reappearance in the Wish-Realm.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just saying that by the end of the evening, you seemed to be enjoying yourself more than usual,” Emma raised her eyebrows suggestively, praying the brunette wasn’t going to make her spell it out for her. 

“Oh, that.” Regina’s flush deepened and she hung her head slightly, tucking stray hairs behind her ear.

“Yeah. That,” Emma said, trying to appear interested, “How did _that_ even happen?"

“Well it is hardly the first time,” Regina tried to brush it off speaking overly casually, “Mal and I have a long, long history. I spent a large portion of it in her bed, it’s hardly a surprise it happened again.”

“What?!” Emma was grateful that she had been eating, and the soft bread muffled what would have been considered an overreaction, “I thought you said you two were, I quote, ‘very old friends.’”

“It was implied. Honestly, I thought you knew. We were together for years in the Enchanted Forest. She was there for me when nobody was, in a way I don’t think I would have allowed anyone else to be,” Regina said, absentmindedly clenching her hands and Emma knew all-too-well what she was referring to. She wanted to reach across the table, take her hands in hers and protect her in the way she had so disastrously failed at before. The brunette cleared her throat, shaking her head, and sat a little taller, “Anyway, we drifted apart. Until a couple of years ago, when I was undercover. Had to convince her I was back on my old tricks, and what better way to do that than literally get back on one of my old tricks?”

“Wait, what? When you were undercover you - and her - and you never said?” Emma spluttered through her sentence with a little dignity. Her head was spinning and the gnawing discomfort in her stomach had become turbulent. How had she missed that? “But...You locked her in a dungeon! For twenty-eight years!”

“Oh she forgave me for that,” Regina said flippantly, flicking her wrist before a familiar look slid across her face, one that usually me conniving Evil Queen, “Besides, Mal enjoys a little dungeon play. Not my scene, so I guess I owed her.” 

Emma was sure her eyebrows were going to disappear into her hairline, “I do not need to know...”

Regina laughed, “It was a joke, dear.”

“So,” Emma said, crumpling and smoothing out the corners of paper on her lap, before crumpling them again, “is it serious?” Regina’s expression was unreadable, it was a rare occurrence these days when Emma couldn’t easily gaze through dark brown eyes and instantly decipher the emotions.

“It’s not necessarily serious. It _is_ complicated,” Regina said, crossing her legs gracefully. She was doing that thing Emma knew she did so well, where she would distract from the conversation with movement. Shrouded in poise and power, most people were entranced, or at least momentarily preoccupied with the threat, that a shift in stature or change of position would give her breadth. She paused, considering her words carefully, “I think we’re just getting...reacquainted. For the time being.”

“Do you love her?” The words tasted like bile and slipped out against her will. The tremendous effort to keep a straight face was failing.

“I did. Once upon a time. A lot has happened since then,” Regina said wistfully at her lap, then looked up through dark lashes at Emma once again keeping her thoughts firmly to herself. She held their gaze for a second longer than comfort would allow, trying to discern the blonde’s reaction. Unsatisfied, she changed the subject, “Enough of that. I want to hear how you are. It feels like ages since we’ve last seen you, Henry misses you around the house.”

“I didn’t want to intrude...”

“Oh, like that’s ever stopped you before,” Regina joked, before realization dawned on her, “Emma...Mal’s not _living_ with me.”

“I suppose that's a good thing, for Henry’s sake. If how you left the party was anything to go by, you probably saved us from scarring our son any more than we already have.”

Regina had the good graces to blush at that, “She left in the morning. Before Henry got home. I didn’t see her again until Sunday night. Not that he didn’t already know, your mother and that gossiping mouth of hers. That, and I was honest with him. So it was just the two of us, a normal cozy weekend.” 

“Sounds nice,” Emma’s voice softened, and Regina mistook it for sadness. 

“We missed you," Regina met her with equal gentleness, "I did try and convince him to visit. To spend a night at yours.”

“He’s not overly fond of my house,” Emma said. It wasn’t bitter and probably said with too much understanding, “I think he will always associate it with me being the Dark One.”

“Perhaps you should get a new one? If it’s not the home you want.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Emma shrugged, noncommittally, thoroughly unconvinced that a simple change of brick and mortar would solve the problem. Mifflin street was Henry’s home and it was the damned closest thing Emma had to a real home. Which was a terrible thought. Because between her parent’s loft, the farmhouse, and her actual owned property, all things that should logically outweigh the Mayor’s mansion, 108 Mifflin street was where she felt safest. “I think it’s gonna be impossible to replace the house he grew up in. That warmth and safety net takes years to build. I don’t blame him for choosing to stay there. Hell, I’m half convinced to join him.”

It was meant to be a joke, but Emma winced at how serious she sounded. 

“Well, I suppose my guest room has lost its title to Emma’s room,” Emma smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Emma’s room should have been Regina’s room. Their room where she would know by heart what pattern was on the ceiling, and exactly just how expensive the sheets were. Regina laughed, “Though I must know, is your pirate house trained? Because my carpets are irreplaceable.”

“Very funny, Regina.” It was anything but.

“Sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all and they giggled 

“I can come around tonight?” Emma asked hopefully. She could make this work. She could be content with the corner of Regina’s life she knew was hers. The corner that sat behind a door with a sign that read ‘Guest Bedroom.’

“Oh,” Regina hesitated, before plowing forward a little too quickly, “Emma I’m really sorry, but I’m meeting Mal tonight. I would cancel, but she said she wanted to show me something and it has to do with the stars so it only works tonight. But, I’m free tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry. It’s fine,” _It’s not_ , “Tomorrow is fine.’

“Emma, is this because you don’t trust her? Because if that’s the case, I’m sure if you just had dinner with us, you’d change your mind.”

“I do trust her,” Emma said with honest certainty. Regina didn’t need to know why just yet, but despite how she felt about the dragon sorceress, trust wasn’t the problem.

“You’d probably get along really well, too well, actually. But if you’ve never really spoken to her I can see how you might - “

“I have. Spoken to her before,” Emma said, without thinking. 

“Really? When?” Regina asked, surprised.

“Oh. Uh - I can’t remember,” Emma lied, and Regina looked decidedly unconvinced, but graciously let it slide. 

“So, it’s decided. Dinner tomorrow?” 

\--

**PAST - Swan Song**

The Maine night air nipped at them, but no one in their party noticed the cold. Awaiting a boat that would take you to the underworld was enough to keep anyone's thoughts away from something as mundane as the weather. 

Overwhelmed by the tension in waiting, Emma had stalked away from the group down one of the paved footpaths, searching for a second of calm before the inevitable storm. As the time ticked closer to when Gold would summon the ferryman, Emma was becoming less and less convinced of her plan. But here was a group of people who were literally willing to go to Hell for her, and she feared their conviction to help her may be steering them all in the wrong direction. She wound around the corner of the footpath, so lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t notice the woman who was perched on a park bench, eyeing her from beneath the brim of a grey hat. 

“Miss Swan,” a cool voice spoke from amongst the trees. Emma was tense enough that it had her almost jumping out of her skin.

“Jesus Christ, Maleficent! You scared me half to death,” she said, pressing a hand over her racing heart, “What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you before you go on your quest,” Maleficent said, and there was an urgency in her voice that had the Saviour listening against her better judgment. 

“How do you know about that?”

“Regina contacted me earlier, asking for advice,” Maleficent said matter-of-factly, standing and brushing the dirt from her pantsuit. Frowning at the memory she wondered if she was doing the tight thing by omitting the fact that Regina had shouted for her in floods of tears. 

_”Emma said it was true love. That I would be able to split her heart because she loves him,” Regina hiccuped, pressing her fingers beneath her eyes to collect any tears._

_“You don’t have to go, my pet. Leave that vulgar pirate to his fate. I would greatly prefer it if you never stepped foot in that nightmare place, it would be much safer for you to stay behind."_

_“Emma is going,” Regina said simply as if that explained everything, and in many senses it did, “I have to do this. I just need to know something.”_

_“What would that be?” Maleficent spoke from the other side of the small mirror on her mantel, knowing she was fighting a losing battle._

_“If it’s not true love, will splitting the heart still work? I mean...” Regina struggled to find the words and struggled to keep her composure, “If it works, does that mean...that she - I mean that I don’t have,’ Regina sighed, but Mal knew the question she wished to ask._

_“If she is determined, whether it is true love or not will be irrelevant. The brain had a stronger grip on the heart that most people think,” Maleficent spoke, not wanting to encourage Regina but not able to lie to her either, “I still think this is a foolish idea. For you, in particular, my raven. I will not sleep knowing where you are.”_

_“I have to go.”_

_“You don’t. Stay for me?”_

_Regina froze, before closing her eyes against a fresh round of tears, “I’m sorry. But if Emma is going, and it is as terrible as you say, I can’t let her go through it alone.”_

Emma was looking at her, expecting an explanation. She said simply, “We have a shared mirror.”

“I thought she couldn’t - “

“Reach mirror magic across realms? No, she can’t, but I can. Now hush, this is very important,” if Emma didn’t know any better she would have thought the sorceress was begging, “I don’t need to know the reasons for your traipsing into the foulest place imaginable, and dragging your whole family into damnation with you. However, I am familiar with where you travel to, and I could not let you go without warning.”

“The underworld? You’ve been?” Emma asked. 

“I flickered in and out of the grasp death for years, trapped beneath this town after you killed me, neither here nor there. I was no permanent inhabitant of that horrid place, but I know it well. And it is every bit as terrible as Rumplestiltskin says,” her usually composed and formidable figure repressed a shiver. 

“Why are you helping me?”

“I’m not here for you, I’m here for Regina," Mal said simply, and fear crept into Emma's mind. What did this have to do with Regina? Why did Mal look so...so terrified?

“Regina? Talk to her then, I’ve got enough on my mind - “

“Silence!” The dragon snapped, “Emma, this is vital to Regina’s safety. I tried, she did not listen to me when she contacted me earlier. I tried to dissuade her from going but she is determined to be by your side, despite the enormous personal risk to her.”

“Because of all the people she sent there?”

“Perhaps, but I am only concerned about one particular resident,” Maleficent spoke slowly, voice low and dangerous and her face filled with a turbulent fury that forced Emma to grasp the seriousness of the situation. 

“Who?” She asked, afraid of the answer.

“The one responsible for the creation of The Evil Queen,” Maleficent said darkly, obscured by shadow. 

“Cora? I thought she loved Regina in the end. And Rumplestiltskin is coming with us, he’s not down there yet. If he wanted to harm her, he could have done so - “

“I do not mean that pathetic excuse for a reptile,” the taller woman spat, teeth bared and seething, “Yes, he may have groomed her into an instrument for his own devices, and he will forever be my enemy because of it. But the Dark One’s influence was only irresistible to those her because she was already without hope and desperate. Someone else caused that.”

“So who is it?”

Maleficent battled with herself, and Emma could see the conversation playing out on her face, before she sighed in defeat, “I will not betray her trust for something that may not come to pass. She would be furious with me if she knew we were having this conversation. I just need you to promise me you will look after her.”

“I always look after her,” Emma said defensively, thankful for the murk of the evening for covering the hot blush she felt in her cheeks. Mal seemed to pacify, though only slightly.

“Emma,” Maleficent said slowly, voice thick and serious, blue eyes burning into the Saviour’s, “I know. Which is why I’m coming to you. She’s come so far, and is stronger and more resilient than most, but I know from experience she barely made it out of this battle once before and it changed her. Irreparably. She’s not the same person that she was forced to become, and while it warms what’s left of my heart to see her hopeful again, it makes her vulnerable.”

“You’re really worried, aren’t you?” Emma asked in disbelief. She hadn’t thought Maleficent capable of extending genuine caring concern to anyone past her daughter. 

“This person sits close in Hades' council, bitterness at their entrapment darkening them further. They have power in purgatory, and while I am nervous of you taking your physical forms into its misery, your souls will still be bitterly exposed. Damage done to both forms may be...more lasting. Cuts may run deeper..”

“So why aren’t you coming with? If you’re so concerned.”

“I would, but I cannot risk what I finally have with my daughter. You know there is a very real chance you will not be able to return, and Lilith is finally settling into her life with me. I cannot up-end it again, even for Regina,” she sighed, “Besides, I doubt she would accept my protection. But you, Saviour, she will let you.”

Emma felt a little guilty for being so quick to judge the dragon before. The love she had for Lily was clear, prioritizing family and risking her relationship with her closest friend for their own protection were strong signs of a personality trait Emma didn’t associate with Mal. Perhaps she was wrong. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Mal asked, filling the heavy silence. 

“You’ve answered almost none of mine, but I imagine you’re going to ask regardless," Emma said, placing her hands on her hips.

“Why go down at all? Everything you want is here. Your son, your family, love. Why risk it all for this?”

Emma gulped, shaking her head in denial, “No, you’re wrong. Hook, he’s - “

“Not what you really want,” Maleficent said knowingly. Too knowingly, “Humans are terrible and hiding their emotions. So if you don’t love him, what is inspiring this little voyage?”

“I thought you said you don’t need to know my reasons,” Emma defended. It wasn’t an answer, and she knew it. 

“Changed my mind. Now tell me, what do you gain by going after that sleazy pirate when you’re so obviously in love with someone else?”

“He loves me," wasn't the denial at Mal's accusations she had expected to come out of her mouth. It wasn't denial at all. 

“Ah, so you believe you owe him. You know his death would have been preventable by his own choices, too. Just because you inspired one shining moment of goodness, does not mean you are responsible for him. He and his so-called 'goodness' are not worth the hassle, consider leaving him to his fate."

“Watch it, dragon lady, I’ve killed you once,” Emma said, but there was no bite to her threat and Maleficent just raised an eyebrow.

“I’m just saying, his redemption has hardly been worthy of the word. He is selfish and has only turned away from evil for his benefit and he is only capable of goodness by using yours. It's not the same as real change. Take our dear Regina for example, she changed for Henry, yes, but the willpower was her own. Not borrowed. That same fiery resilience and warm heart that breaks for others...I saw them both years before she became The Evil Queen. While she may have made choices that would benefit Henry, the place they came from was her's. Hook is only good for you, or, even less, for your good opinion, which means he is hardly good at all. If left to his own devices, he would not make the same decisions.”

Emma was silent, frowning deep and pulling at the hem of the sleeves of her leather jacket. The insightful woman spoke wisely and her words resonated a little too clearly for Emma’s comfort, “He died because he loved me, and he only loved me because I told him I loved him. I have to fix this.”

“You hero types and your insufferable self-sacrifice,” She rolled her eyes so dramatically, that Emma briefly wondered if it was her Regina had learned the motion from or vice versa, “Splitting your heart is not an act that can be undone. If you truly want to save him, it will likely work, but you can’t take it back.”

“Why would I want to take it back?” Emma asked.

“Because if you’ve already given your heart, you cannot easily go and give it to someone else,” Mal said, stepping forward, “Someone more deserving, who would make you happier. The same someone who you really want, who is waiting to follow you blindly into the depths of hell and who - “

“Enough,” Emma said, eyes burning with unshed tears, hands shaking as Mal’s words tore her heart to pieces like it was made of paper, “Enough. I don’t know how - I’m not - She’s not interested.”

“What makes you think that, pet?”

“Did you miss the fact that thief, the one who follows her around like a dog begging for treats, is her destined soulmate? Or that her one true love has already happened?” Emma laughed wryly, “Or the fact that she’s never shown the slightest bit of interest in me beyond me being Henry’s mother? In fact, she’s never given any sign she might be interested in women at all.”

Maleficent’s blue eyes widened in what could almost be described as glee. She certainly was more amused than she should be at Emma’s tirade, smirking coyly like she was about to spill a big secret. Enjoying making it painfully obvious she knew something Emma didn’t and was going to relish in telling her, she opened her mouth to speak - 

“MA?! Ma where are you?” Henry’s voice rebounded through the trees from around the bend of the path, “Gold’s here, we need to get going!”

“Coming,” she called back, “Listen, I’ve gotta go. No turning back now.”

“I don’t know why you would think that, you can very easily turn back. But I see you’re not going to,” Mal said, shoulders sagging with defeat, “You look after her down there, Emma Swan.”

“I will,” she said, walk turning into a run as she made her way back to the waterfront, “I promise. Nothing will happen to her.”


	3. Sick of Losing Soulmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how damn LONG this is...But seeing as each chapter has three parts to it just think of it as three chapters for the price of one.
> 
> This is the second to last of the groundwork before we really get into the Underworld saga, so bear with it. I'm too much of a slut for a character study to not go all out. That and just because this is the first SQ fic I've published doesn't mean I'm not drowning in half-finished one-shots that are getting incorporated into this. 
> 
> Chapter Song is 'Sick of Losing Soulmates' by dodie. She's a great queer singer and this song is so perfect for SQ and it really compliments what I've got going on in Regina's head. I just love it. 
> 
> Also I apologize for any spelling mistakes. I hate them too, I’m just wildly neuro-divergent and can’t spell check to save my life. I try. 
> 
> Anyway, Enjoy! Your comments and kudos are so heartwarming and keep me going! Xx

**CHAPTER 3**

\--

Regina could pinpoint the specific moment when it happened. Real-life was like that. Revelations came suddenly, smashing through the fragile glass of her life, leaving shards of broken glass all over the floor. The change would come in crashing disasters and she’d be left, cut up and hurt, and left to clear up the mess in its wake. Snow charging through her pasture on her horse, Daniel’s sudden death, an unfamiliar yellow Volkswagen in-front of her house, Henry kidnapped to Neverland, Marian’s second succumbing to the frozen heart and having to cross the town line with Robin just hours later. Cruel life had always come at her quickly in brief but broad sweeping blasts. That’s why she so meticulously planned everything she could. She had to have some control when the next fracture came. Learning harshly, she knew she would have to have some system to sort out the demolished wreckage, instead of simply wandering over broken glass. 

Occasionally, she'd had warning; tapping on the metaphorical structure of her existence, and she would scramble to prepare. A gentle knock of foreboding that something was coming, and it wasn’t going to be nearly so gentle. Something that was going to shatter her delicate fortress. 

There had been tapping on the glass and banging on her office door, the Saviour demanding to be let in, promising her a happy ending. But Regina had leaned against it, burying her head in her knees and blocking out both her words and the stirring in her heart they caused. 

_“Emma, wait,” She spoke against her wishes, “I don’t want to kill you.”_

_“See, that's a start.”_

Beamish, guileless and so warm was Emma’s smile then, like late afternoon sunlight on a summer afternoon, something she was certain the inside of her vault had never seen. Regina’s breath caught in her throat and she felt the cracks start. 

“We called it Operation Mongoose”

“I like it. It’s got style,” Emma said, oh so easily, “I’m in.”

“You are?” she was breathless, and she wanted to fall forward into the intoxicating emerald of Emma’s sincere and trustworthy eyes. 

“I made you a promise I intend to keep. Everyone deserves their happy ending.”

Regina had a sinking feeling that she was looking at it. 

Broken glass scattered all over, and she didn’t know what it meant. Something had changed. And it was big enough to have her mind scrambling to pick up the pieces. Of all the things she had expected, or that she had painstakingly planned for, falling in love with Emma Swan was not on the list. And once more, Regina was left reeling in the wake of what she knew was the end of her life as she knew it.

“Come on, this may be good news. But I’m still in need of a drink. A celebratory one,” Emma said.

“Celebration? Because Operation Mongoose has a new member?” Henry asked.

“Yeah, kid. That's worth celebrating,” Emma said, throwing her arm over his shoulders and pulling him in for a quick side hug. She affectionately ruffled his hair and gave Regina a questioning look, “If your Mom is still game?”

“Alright,” Regina had agreed, distantly lost in thought, not letting her gaze leave Emma and their son. 

“Can I come? If we’re celebrating,” Henry said, looking expectantly between his mothers.

“Oh, uh....”Emma looked at Regina over his head, not sure of how to proceed. She had planned on getting the former Evil Queen drunk enough to forget letting Robin cross the town line, and she imagined that it was going to take a lot of alcohol to achieve that goal. Probably more than should be consumed in front of their son.

Diplomatic as ever, Regina intervened, “How about we skip Grannies? Emma can come home with us, and you can have hot cocoa.”

“In the big mug?” Henry asked cheekily. Regina was struck speechless by how much that smug grin that she loved so much on her son perfectly matched Emma’s. She was in over her head. 

Emma had only been invited into the mansion three times before: once, when they’d first met. The second, when Regina had tried to poison her. The third was for a seance to bring back Regina’s dead mother. None were overly pleasant memories. Maybe this was a bad idea. The worries that had plagued the brunette on the drive to Mifflin street were mirrored on Emma’s face as she hesitated on the threshold of the mansion. Regina sighed, this was going to take a lot of work. 

“Come in Emma and - “

“Do what I do best and make myself at home?” She smiled, sheepishly. Regina couldn’t believe the laughter that escaped her lungs. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard. 

“You got it, dear,” Regina winked playfully. Emma was so shocked at the fact that her tactless joke had been accepted without a scathing scowl and a cutting remark that she followed the woman into the entry hall with no more hesitation. They settled effortlessly, so much so that Emma made no move to leave even after Henry had gone to bed. 

Both women rubbed their cheeks where he had given them a sloppy, chocolate-coated kiss goodnight as they had watched him ascend the steps. The evening had filled the hole of the lost family they both had been missing, but Regina was nervous to be left alone in Emma’s company, their buffer and common denominator sleepily trudging to bed in the hall above. Bravely, she turned to face her visitor, preparing herself for awkward silence or their usual clashing remarks. But she was met with neither.

“What?” Regina said, breath short at catching the Saviour looking at her like, well - like _that_. Like she had in her vault. Like Regina had just put the sun in the sky. And if that's what she had to do to get Emma Swan to look at her like that, she would gladly give it her best shot.

“I was just thinking about how much I owe you,” Emma said, easily. 

Regina fidgeted under her fierce gaze, guilt filling her heart, “Emma, after all the anguish I’ve caused you, you don’t owe me - “

“I do," she said seriously, "When you sent Henry and me away, you gave us the most perfect life. You gave away your memories with him, and let me have them.”

“I’m sorry, I was rushed," Regina said shyly, "I didn’t mean to insert myself in your relationship with Henry, I just didn’t have a lot of time to come up with new memories of your own so I - “

“I’m glad you didn’t” Emma interrupted. She stood up from her spot on the floor, placed another log on the dying fire in the fireplace, before crossing the room to sit next to Regina.

“You - you are?” Regina asked, eyes following the blonde as she moved comfortably around her home, “Why?”

“Because, now that I know it was all fake, I got to be a part of Henry growing up. If I’d had my own, different, memories, it would have been harder. But I got to see things that I otherwise would have missed; his first word, bedtime routine, Sunday brunches, teaching him to ride a bike,” Emma and Regina smiled fondly, “The best moments of his life, and the best moments of yours, I missed because I was too afraid to be a mother. But now, even though I know I get none of the credit, I feel like I got to be there. And you didn’t have to invite me into that part of his life, I gave away my rights when I sent him away for adoption. But because you did...I don’t think tonight would have been so perfect if I didn’t already know what it was like to be a part of this family. So thank you.”

Regina was speechless. Soft cracking from the fire in the fireplace filled the room as the log Emma had thrown on broke the coals beneath it, settling into the flames. The light flickered across the saviour’s relaxed face and she was so close Regina could smell the scent of cinnamon and vanilla that clung to her skin. 

“Another?” Regina asked, needing an excuse to move out of the heat of the Saviour’s gaze and away from the heat of the fire. She stood shakily to retrieve the decanter from her sideboard.

“No thanks, I have to drive home. And the last time I had too much of that cider and drove, it ended in city property damage. Which didn’t really bother me, but now I’m sheriff, I don’t want the paperwork. ”

Regina snorted, “As if you aren’t responsible for half the property damage regardless of how inebriated you are.”

“And who would be responsible for the other half, Madame Mayor,” Emma said jokingly.

Regina smirked, “Touche, Miss Swan.” 

Emma raised her empty glass in a mock salute and gave her a cheeky grin. Regina just rolled her eyes and turned back to the sideboard to hide her smile. She lifted the decanter in a silent offer, and the blonde shook her head. 

“Suit yourself,” She said, pouring herself another hefty glass regardless and taking a deep drink from it, hoping the alcohol would soothe her shaking hands. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Your welcome,” Emma accepted gracefully, before grinning, “For what?”

“Not giving up on me. I don’t deserve it,” Regina muttered, “After all I’ve done, the people I’ve hurt...”

“Hey, Henry thinks you deserve it. Hell, I’m so concerned about your happy ending, I’m making it my top priority.”

Regina’s heart swelled. Top priority was not something anyone had ever described her as. Even her fated soulmate had just made her his last priority. Had chosen a code over her. And whether or not Emma was blustering was not important. Because Regina believed her. 

“I better get going,” Emma yawned. 

Regina almost didn’t stop herself. She almost didn’t close her mouth against one simple request, “Stay.” If she hadn’t regained control in time, the word would have slipped out.

Almost. She almost got up again to retrieve Emma another drink, one she knew the blonde wouldn’t turn down. She almost shifted herself down the length of the sofa, leaving no space between them and no space for misinterpretation. She almost gave in to the years of sexual tension - sexual tension she had downplayed to being a part of their hero/villain dynamic. It would have been so easy to place a hand on the denim-clad leg beside her, or run her hands over arms that she knew were so perfectly sculpted. She would have let those arms carry her up the stairs, rewarding their owner with kisses and promises of love. 

But she did stop herself, and instead gazed pensively into the entrancing glow of dancing flames. 

“Regina? Earth to Regina,” Emma said, a little concerned, “Hey, you okay?”

Visions of her fantasy vaporised, and she shook her head a little. 

“Sorry, just tired. Today’s been ... a lot,” Regina said. 

Emma frowned, “Are you sure you’re going to be alright? I know today was hard. If you want, I can stay. We can probably finish that whole bottle of cider if we put our minds to it.”

I can stay. 

“Tempting, but no. We need you sharp for Operation Mongoose” she gulped, pulling her gaze away from green eyes. They were lined with gold from the fire, soft from the alcohol and making Regina’s stomach fizz and her heart race within her chest, “Plus there are some things - things I need to figure out.”

“Okay,” Emma said, plucking Regina’s glass from her hands and the brunette tried to hide the shudder the brush of her fingers caused, “Just promise me you won’t sit in the dark drinking alone. And call me if you need anything,” she called over her shoulder as she went to deposit the crystal tumblers and Henry’s mug in the kitchen. 

Love came in many forms, but Regina had never truly welcomed any of them outside of the love for her son. Love was pain, or weighted chains of fate, or heavy smoke that was so sickly sweet she feared it might make her sick. Emma wasn’t any of those. She was like a breath of fresh air on a brisk October morning, filling her lungs and making her hum with vitality. It surrounded her so naturally, and as she inhaled it in she knew that without her she would be left drowning and gasping for breath.

Which is precisely why, as she watched Emma wave from inside her bug before pulling away from the mansion, she swore never to tell her. What they had created this evening was too precious to risk. Regina had a nasty habit of losing things, and she was not going to lose the only thing in this town that made each breath worth the effort. 

She didn’t know how long she stood on the porch, perfectly centered between the grand pillars in the cool evening air. Her mind simultaneously scrambling over the shards of her latest revelation and also blissfully blank. 

\--

As soon as their eye’s met, Regina relaxed. She knew exactly how she was going to play this and, provided she didn’t have to do anything her heroes would deem as ‘evil,’ she might even enjoy it. 

“Are you still a bad girl, Regina?” Mal asked, stepping into her space and she knew that look. A challenge offered in the form of a shot glass. A challenge Mal knew she would be incapable of refusing if the absolutely filthy looks the dragon witch was sending her way were anything to go by. 

“The worst.”

Hot on her neck, Regina had felt Mal’s searing gaze trained on her all through the night. It only got worse as the evening progressed. From the incident on the train tracks in the stuffy car, sweat on her neck matting the repulsive red fur, to the candlelit warmth of drinking in her vault. 

“Oh for pity’s sake, I can’t stand to witness any more of this eye fucking. Come, darling,” Cruella gestured to Ursula, dropping the bottle of gin into Regina’s lap, “I think we ought to leave before we see more than we want to.”

Mal didn’t stop the pair from leaving, nor did she correct Cruella’s assumption. When a sultry smile was thrown her way, a grin that reflected her of the dragon that lay beneath the surface, Regina realized her initial plan may have worked a little too well. Her heart dropped a little in guilt as if she was betraying someone by toying with Mal. 

Robin was gone, having put her last yet again so she definitely didn’t owe him any explanation. Not that he occupied much space in Regina’s thoughts these past few weeks. His space had been so easily overfilled with the Saviour. The wonderful but perfectly unattainable Saviour. 

The Saviour who was safest out of Regina’s poisonous touch. 

She downed the rest of the gin straight from the bottle at that thought. Hadn’t that bottle been unopened when they got here? Cruella really had a gin problem. She chucked the empty green bottle into a crate with the other empties, relishing in the shattering sound as it smashed. The stone tiles were littered with slivers of green glass and knocked over goblets. 

It crunched beneath her boots as she found herself being pushed backward, familiar lips on hers with no discussion. Mal expected resistance, an expected explanation for the tortured look in Regina’s eyes. Just as Regina expected answers, answers to the questions that had her undercover in the first place. Neither were getting what they wanted. 

“And tell me, pet,” Mal said between in labored breaths as she finally pulled her lips away from Regina’s, pressing her a little more firmly against the cool stone of the vault, “What are you running from this time? What has you hiding behind - or beneath - me again?”

Damn it, she knew her too well.

Regina hesitated. She had never withheld anything from the woman before her. That was until she went just a little too far past the point of no return, betrayed her, stolen the Dark Curse, locked her in a dungeon, and had her killed. All things considered, Mal was being very gracious and perhaps deserved her honesty. But there was something, some indeterminable flicker in Mal’s gaze that Regina had never seen from the woman, that had warning bells clanging in her head. Which was honestly unfair, considering how much she had to drink and anything clanging, made her wince. 

Besides, she rationed with herself, explaining that she was in love with the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, the very one that had been their cause for Mal’s loss of her child, was not a good idea. Oh, and she apparently had a soulmate (though she was begining to have her doubts) who she had banished to New York with his wife and child? She would either lose all respect from the woman who was currently nipping at her neck or...or she’d be burnt to a crisp. 

“Does it matter?” She asked, voice dripping with sex, and tried to pull the woman’s attention away from conversation by pulling her jacket off her shoulders slowly and tossing her hair out her face. 

“No,” the woman ground out, pushing her hands beneath the leather of Regina's skirt and pulling at the tops of her stockings, “No, it doesn’t.” 

It solidified, that little sign in Mal’s eyes manifesting into something Regina could recognise with shameful familiarity.

_Obsession._

It clouded over Mal’s protective instinct. An obsession that had pushed the dragon witch to side with Rumplestiltskin, someone who she despised. The same obsession that Mal had seen in Regina years ago and hated. Whatever Maleficent was after, Regina knew she wasn’t going to be enough to stop her. The former Evil Queen knew then she had made the right decision in keeping her secrets. 

Obsession and villains never led anywhere good, and she’d be damned if she dragged Emma Swan down with her. 

\--

**PRESENT**

“Oh Crap,” Henry swore, as the last melted mouthful of his ice cream sundae slipped from its spoon and landed on the papers that covered his table at Granny’s. Scrambling for the napkins, he smeared the splotch of strawberry cream trying to save his homework and smudging rows of equations. He was too busy dipping his napkins in his water glass to try and dab out the stain and crumbling the paper in the process, that he didn’t notice the woman enter the diner, “Crap, crap, crap.”

“What would your mother say if she heard that language?” A familiar voice spoke with amusement at the teenager. 

“Hey Grandma,” Henry looked up from his brutalised math homework, and eagerly shut the thick textbook, “Come save me from Algebra.”

“Looks more like the algebra needs saving from you,” Snow joked, gesturing to the wet crumpled paper as she slid into the booth opposite him. 

“Not since my teacher told Mom I could advance to a higher math class,” Henry rolled his eyes, and Snow knew that math hadn't always been Henry’s strong suit, “There were twenty-four hours when I thought she was going to cry every time she looked at me. Gotta keep those grades up and keep Mom proud enough that she’s always on the verge of tears.” Henry winked, conspiringly. 

“Why’s that?” Snow asked slowly and warily. 

“Because as long as this guy is getting straight A’s,” He said, pointing at himself with his thumbs and sported a childish grin, “Mom can’t say no to anything I ask for. I’ve already got two new video-games that she swore she wouldn’t buy me.”

Snow threw her head back and laughed heartily, “Oh, Henry. Regina would give you the world on a string if she could. Regardless of your grades.”

Henry smiled, “But the extra dessert is a bonus,” he said tapping the glass of the empty sundae bowl that had been pushed to the side of the table. 

“Speaking of, where is Regina? I need to talk to her and I was hoping she would be here,” Snow said. Wednesday afternoons, after Henry had finished school, usually found mother and son 

“Ma’s coming over for dinner tonight and Mom needed to get groceries.”

“Dinner tonight...Emma certainly spends a lot of her evenings with you and Regina.”

“Yeah, so?” Henry asked, “We’re her family. It’s not weird that she's over for dinner.”

“No, I suppose not,” Snow paused, pretending that she hadn’t planned this whole conversation out ahead of time, “But she is practically living in your guest room, and this arrangement has been going on for years. Any ideas as to why it started?”

“It’s probably just habit now. But after Robin died, or whatever happened in Hell...Ma said she didn’t wasn’t Mom to be alone,” Henry said, shrugging, and Snow knew that crestfallen expression that hadn’t changed in all the years she’d known Henry.

“But you don’t agree?” She probed.

“No, they are good for each other. But, Mom’s not alone. I mean, she has me. Right?” Henry looked unsure, picking at the eraser of his pencil until the soft rubber crumbled in her clenching fingers. 

“Henry, of course, she has you. You’re her whole world. But there are just some things we can’t let out children help with. Believe me, I know.” The boy didn’t say anything, obviously not liking that answer. He frowned in a way that made him look like Emma and wrung his hands in a way that was reminiscent of Regina. 

“So,” Snow continued in an attempt to pull her grandson out of his funk. That and she’d come here for information, and if Regina wasn’t around to give it to her she’d have to get it from Henry. Because she was Snow White on a mission, and that meant she would get what she wanted no matter what, even if it meant interrogating her grandson, “Does Killian ever come with her?”

Henry almost laughed, “I don’t think Mom would let him through the door, let alone invite him to sit at the dining room table.”

“Yes, I suppose Regina has never been subtle about her dislike for Killian,” Snow chuckled, “I had thought maybe she would put those feelings aside though. For the sake of Emma’s marriage.”

“They may be married, but I’m not sure Mom’s ever going to include him in our family nights. I don’t think she trusts him,” Henry couldn’t keep his own wariness of the pirate out of his voice. After leaving his Mom to be tortured at the hands of Greg Mendel, or his complete readiness to kill him and his family when he was the Dark One, Henry had his issues with his birth mother’s husband. 

“And how does that make you feel?” Snow asked, in her best caring princess voice.

“Well, I - Hey, hang on a moment,” Henry squinted his eyes, “What are you up to? Why are you asking so many questions?”

Snow gaped, before shutting her mouth firmly and batting her eyes trying to look innocent, “I don’t know what you mean. I’m simply a concerned grandmother.”

“Uh-huh, nice try,” Henry obviously found this all very amusing, and he leaned across the table conspiratorially, “C’mon, spill, grandma. What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on,” She swore, but Henry looked unconvinced, “Okay, okay, fine. I was just wondering how things are going with Emma and Hook.”

Henry shrugged, “She married him, didn’t she? What else is there to know? Happily Ever After and all that.”

“That's the problem, I wonder if that’s because we pushed all our Happy Ending, True Love doctrine, that maybe she made a misinformed choice. I mean, it all happened so fast, and I thought maybe the party last week would have made them a little happier but they both seem miserable and - Sorry Henry, I don’t mean to put all this on you I’m just worried,“ Snow stopped her ramblings, realizing that it was probably wildly inappropriate to be having this conversation with her grandson. But Emma was as uncrackable as always and Regina wasn’t around to ask and she really, REALLY needed an answer. 

“So what you’re saying is you don’t think she should have married him? But you were all cry-y and smiley when they got engaged?”

“You said it not me. Do you think so, though?” Snow asked, over interested. Palms splayed on the table, she leaned forward, whispering, “I mean you’re her son AND the author. You must know something about what’s going on.”

“Grandma, just because I’m the author doesn’t mean I have some all-knowing insight into everyone's heads. Although that would be cool...” Henry said, “What do you want me to say?”

“I just want to make sure Emma is happy. I know she’s always wanted to feel like she has a family - “

“She does have a family.”

“That doesn’t include her husband? You said it yourself Henry, you have to understand what it looks like from an outside perspective. Emma supposedly marries the man of her dreams but spends all her free time with you and Regina. She’s made no effort to reconcile those two parts of her life, and I think it is obvious which half she would choose if given an ultimatum. She’s protective of your Mom and is concerned with her feeling alone. And by making sure she’s not, she leaves her husband alone. Do you see what I'm getting at here?"

Brows knitted together in thought, the teenager took a moment to mull over Snow’s suggestions. 

“So, let me get this right. You think that Ma is in love with -“ Henry stopped at the tell-tale jingle of the door of Granny’s opening, “Mom, Hi!” 

“Henry," Regina said smiling brightly, "Groceries are in the car. Did you finish your homework?” Henry looked a little guilty, leaning on the table trying to hide his half-finished, ice cream covered math. 

“Sorry, Regina. My fault, I’ve been distracting him,” Snow apologized, flashing her most innocent of smiles. 

“Why am I not surprised?” Regina huffed, and Snow rolled her eyes. No matter how far they’ve come, she didn’t think the teasing would ever end, “I hope whatever it was that was so important, it was worth distracting my son from his homework.”

“Oh yes,” Snow grinned, “I got exactly what I was after.”

“I don’t like that tone,” she narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Oh come on, Regina. You know I only have your best intentions at heart!" 

"Perhaps that's what has me so nervous," Regina mumbled, as Snow excused herself. 

But despite her cynicism, Regina brushed the comment aside and didn’t think about it again for the rest of the evening. She didn’t have the energy to take on whatever Snow and her son were plotting. Her feet ached from hiking through the woods in the dead of night and her magic was drained. The only thing that kept her upright was the fact that Emma would be over, the only thing that kept her cooking was that Emma’s face would always light up at the first bite of one of Regina’s meals. 

Her resolve to keep Emma at an arms distance was wavering. If Mal’s reappearance had proved anything it was that her feelings were not going to be easily overcome. Slipping into the old pattern of trying to hide her love for the Saviour behind her affection for someone else was, once again, not working. She was tentative to chase Mal the way she had clung to Robin, using his devotion to her to distract herself from her true feelings. But putting him in that position had gotten him killed. Not that she needed that particular defence mechanism to keep herself from rushing into Emma’s arms. There was a very firm string of events that had ensured Emma would be incapable of being interested in her. Not after what she’d seen. Not now that she understood her so deeply. How could anyone love that? 

She shuddered. Sometimes, when she was alone like this, those disastrous memories would slither out of their hiding place and grip her in their vice of terror. 

The sound of a key turning in the lock of her door and the drag of it being pushed open pulled her from her reverie. 

“Regina? Henry? Hello, I’m home.” Emma’s voice called out. 

Tearing the tarragon leaves from their stem, Regina let her mind wander back to that night when she had finally put her finger on her feelings for Emma. How timid she had been standing on the threshold of the mansion. And now, here she was, using her own key and wandering in whenever best suited her and calling it home.

“Hello?” She called out again, and Regina could hear two light thuds that meant Emma had dutifully deposited her work boots at the front step. 

“In the kitchen,” Regina called back. There was no response, but she easily followed the padding steps of socks over hardwood floors from her entry hall to just behind her. 

“You’re early?” Regina questioned, turning to glance over her shoulder briefly before putting the lid on her dutch oven and turning down the flame on the stove. The tarragon and white wine had filled the kitchen with a delicious aroma and she was confident enough with the remainder of the recipe to shut the French cookery book on her counter. 

“Yeah,” Emma breathed out, hands stuffed into her jean pockets leaning easily against the cabinets, “Just a...long day.”

“Hmmm,” Regina nodded, twisting her lips in understanding, “Want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly,” Emma said, giving her a small smile in gratitude. Regina considered her refusal, eyes sweeping over the woman in front of her searching for some tell. She had become somewhat of an expert of reading Emma. Besides the subconscious slouch that came with exhaustion and the defensive cross of her arms, she looked physically fine. Satisfied that she hadn’t injured herself, Regina nodded, allowing time for the problem to present itself when Emma felt comfortable.

“Potatoes are in the sink,” Regina said. She had left the task for the blonde, remembering how her eyes had lit up the first time Regina trusted her to help her in the kitchen. Emma had blushed at her own excitement and mumbled something about feeling like she was a part of something. Since then she had always left her little tasks that meant that Emma would feel like she was involved. Regina reached into a drawer before thrusting a metal tool into waiting hands, “Peeler and don’t forget to cut out any bruised bits or rot,”

A genuine smile crossed Emma’s face and a bit of exhaustion seeped from her skin. Regina’s worry ebbed a little because that smile meant that whatever was bothering her, she was going to let Regina fix it. 

“Gina?” Emma said so quietly that the brunette almost didn’t hear it over the sounds of the peeler scraping over starchy skins and the babble of boiling water on the stove.

“Yes?”

“Can I use the spare room tonight?” Emma sounded unsure, and the brunette turned away from her cooking to look at the blonde. 

“Emma, of course. You don’t have to ask.”

“You don’t have like...” Emma cleared her throat, “Other evening plans?”

“Oh, I see,” Regina looked down and straightened the hem of her grey cashmere sweater beneath her apron, blushing, “Emma, you’re always welcome here. That’s not going to change.”

The blonde nodded her thanks, staring into the sink. Regina took advantage of the opportunity to get a proper look at her, and she came to the conclusion that Emma looked - off. There were no telltale red-rimmed eyes, or splotch flush on her cheeks to suggest she’d been crying. But her face was too taught and her lips too pale, and that only heightened Regina’s worry. She hummed thoughtfully and turned back to the chicken, waiting for Emma to make the first move. But when all the potatoes had been peeled, chopped, and were boiling away, and not a word had passed between them. Regina deemed enough was enough. 

“Do you want me to ask what happened? Or do you just want a drink?”

“Nothing happened,” Emma said, hackles raising in instinctive defenses. Regina just raised an eyebrow, hands on her hips and a very pointed look on her face. The Saviour sighed and recognised defeat, “Both, probably. Drink first though.”

“I’ll go get a bottle,” Regina said.

She untied her apron and folded it lovingly before depositing it on the counter. It was beautiful French linen that had been utterly ruined by the personalised stitching across the front that read “Head Chef” with a little crown resting on the ‘c.’ It had been a gift from Emma last Christmas. Regina had acted offended until Henry opened his matching one emblazoned with “Sous Chef,” and Emma shyly admitted she had gotten herself one that simply said “Dish Washer.” It was wonderfully domestic.  
  
Emma smiled at the care Regina showed her gift, obviously having moved past her initial statement of, “ _This better not be implying anything, or I swear I’ll never make you another meal again. I’m a Queen, not your cook.”_

_“Just consider yourself lucky I didn’t spring for the matching hat.”_

When she got back from the wine cellar, she flicked her fingers and two barstools appeared as she deposited the bottle on the counter. Once it was open, decanted properly, and poured into two glasses, Emma settled into one of the stools while Regina went back to check on the food. Deeming it fine to simmer, she kicked off her heels, pulled her barstool closer to Emma’s, and, prepared for worst, armed herself with her glass of wine.

“Now, tell me,” Regina urged gently. Emma seemed hesitant, her hands running along to the bowl of her wine glass and Regina recognised the small sparks emitting from her palms causing little bubbles in the wine. She reached between the narrow distance, softly taking Emma’s hands in hers and feeling the magic subside, “Hey, don’t do that. That wine is very nice and you’ll boil off the alcohol. Which would be a waste.”

“Sorry,” Emma mumbled, retracting her hands to run them through her hair and Regina had to keep the rejection she felt from showing, “I dunno what’s wrong with me. I’ve been having issues with my magic.”

“You have?” Regina interrogated, concern dripping from her voice as she leaned forward slightly, “It’s been a while since you’ve had that problem.”

“Not like major stuff. I haven’t blasted through any more walls or anything,” Emma said, taking a sip from her, now too warm, wine, “It just feels right below the surface. I mean more than normal. Like it's always, I don’t know, pressing? Pressing against the other side of my skin and is gonna come bursting out any second like, boom.” Emma used her hands to demonstrate a tine explosion on either side of her head. 

“How long has this been going on? Why haven’t you told me?”

“A couple of days I think. I scratched through the wood of my desk. I didn’t really think about it at the time, I thought I was just picking at a loose splinter. But later, I got back to see I’d burned almost through the top,” Emma described, “And I sorta scorched my ceiling.”

“Is this what’s upsetting you?” Regina pried, filing away a mental reminder to replace the desks in the sheriff’s station. That and check Emma had working fire alarms in her house. Emma looked away, “No. So it's a side effect, then?”

The blonde nodded, pressing her lips into a thin line and keeping her eye’s just out of Regina’s gaze. She was afraid that if she managed to catch a glimpse of her eyes she’d spot exactly what had Emma’s magic on the fritz. Magic responded to emotion, and for Emma that had always been doubly true. Ever since she’d learned that she’d made sure her emotions were kept in check. But lately, they were all over the place. Simple recollections of Regina and Maleficent kissing at her wedding had caused her to almost blow a hole in her office furniture. Imaginings of them tumbling through Regina’s sheets and overwhelming distaste and anger for her husband had led to a blackened patch of soot above her bed. 

It had been so easy to box her feelings for Regina, securing them firmly away with a seal made of what she believed to be facts. Regina had her happy ending, and Emma shouldn’t interfere. Regina wasn’t interested in women. Regina wouldn’t want a relationship after Robin. Regina wouldn’t want someone who had seen her vulnerable and at her lowest, as a constant reminder and in such a position of trust. These things she had convinced herself of so fully had become the bricks she used to build a wall against the flood of emotions that came with loving Regina. She now knew she had constructed her dam with falsehoods, bricks that cracked, and mortar that split. She felt cheated as she faced the impending flood. 

Now trapped by fate, like an animal backed into a corner, Emma was lashing out accordingly. Part of her desperately wished that this mess had nothing to do with the woman beside her because if anyone in the world could understand how she felt, it was Regina.

A sharp buzzer interrupted their silence, signaling the oven was preheated. Regina looked up, but instead of rising to put the pot in she flicked her wrist and the Le Creuset vanished in a whirl of purple smoke only to reappear in the oven below.

“Hey, I thought you didn’t use magic in the kitchen?” Emma jested, trying to shift the mood, “More lies. I knew that lasagna was enchanted! No one’s that good.”

“Oh, hush. Once won’t hurt, I’m just too tired to get up now. I can’t bear the thought of putting those heels on again, I hardly got any sleep, and I hurt my wrist last night. Cast Iron is heavy,” Regina pouted.

Emma felt a flush of hot jealousy, a sensation she was growing used to with its increasing regularity. With it came a flare of magic, rushing just below her skin and she pulled her hands from the counter to hide any flare-ups. 

“Don’t look like that. It’s not what you think. Mal wanted my help with a spell last night,” Emma raised an eyebrow, and Regina looked scandalised, “I’m telling the truth. Her dragon senses have been going wild, some presence she can’t pinpoint yet. That’s why I couldn’t do dinner yesterday, we needed a certain star alignment.”

“Tell me she at least bought you dinner first,” Emma tried to joke, but the words came out twisted and bitter. 

“Take away from Tiana’s, if you must know.”

Strained silence was something neither woman was used to in their relationship, and yet here they were. Shoulders almost brushing, they were close but Regina couldn’t remember the last time Emma was so far away. The light over the island flickered and hummed, and the brunette looked up with furrowed brows before turning a softer gaze to the younger woman beside her.

“When you’re ready to tell me, I’m here,” she soothed delicately, her voice washed over Emma like a warm spot of sunshine on a cold winter's day. It made her want to tell her just to wash that look of burdened concern Regina had worn all evening. But the truth would only make it worse.

“Killian and I had an argument,” Emma mumbled. It wasn’t a lie. It was only the tip of the iceberg that was her problem. 

Regina, who was boiling with anger at the pirate, considered her reply carefully. She forced herself to put Emma's best interests first before gently consoling, “I’m sorry, Emma. Not that I’m surprised, the pirate is an idiot - “

“He’s my husband,” Emma snapped. She was as surprised by her reaction as Regina was, she was certainly no great fan of Hook at the moment.

“Emma, I’m sorry - “ Regina’s eyes were wide and pained, and Emma felt immediately guilty. 

“No, it’s okay. I’m sorry. You’re right, He is an idiot. I’m just touchy and grumpy,” she said, trying to downplay just how upset she was.

“Well, perhaps we ought to invite Leroy over for wine and advice. Do you think he likes Merlot?” Regina joked, and Emma knew she was forgiven for lashing out. 

“I think your wine might be a bit too high class for his tastes.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” Regina joked, staying in the safe territory of easy banter, “I very carefully engineered my curse so I was the only one with access to good wine. After the drivel they’ve all been drinking, it might spark a revolution if they found out what I’m hiding in my cellar.”

“Dark curse indeed, the cruelest of punishments” Emma dramatised, pressing a hand to her forehead in pretend melodrama, “No European imports, forcing a whole town to drink American wine for twenty-eight long, torturous years.”

“Says the woman who drinks watered down, unbranded beer at fifty cents a can,” Regina’s face contorted in disgust as she remembered the taste she had foolishly stolen from Emma’s drink once. The only reason she hadn’t spit it back out was that, well, she was a Queen after all. Since then, a shelf in the downstairs fridge remained stocked with artisan IPA’s and experimental craft brews she would collect for Emma whenever she made a trip out of town. There were even a few that Regina herself didn’t hate. 

“Hey, whatever works,” Emma shrugged, before taking another sip of the wine, “This is much better, though.”

“Glad to be of service, dear,” Regina said, tilting her head forward, and maybe it was because of the wine or the lack of sleep, she winked. Emma flushed and smiled broadly, Regina’s heart fluttered and she cleared her throat.“You’re mother’s been sniffing around. She’s been asking me about you... and today I think she was interrogating Henry.”

“Oh no, she better not be up to something,” Emma groaned, dramatically leaning forward to rest her head on the cool granite of the counter, “I can’t cope with Snow White meddling”

“Quite,” Regina agreed with mock disdain, “While I don’t agree with her methods, I do agree with her concern. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Well at least, Nothing new is wrong,” Emma chewed her lip, “I just thought that after all that he did for me, all those claims that he needed me - I dunno... I don’t know what I’m talking about.” She finished lamely.

“Emma, you are no idiot,” Regina stated firmly, “And I also know that if this isn’t a new issue, you’ll have a theory as to why. Just be honest with me and say you don’t want to tell me. Or do tell me. But don’t sell yourself short and lie to me.”

“It feels wrong complaining to you, of all people, about this,” Emma confessed. 

Emma whipped her head up apologetically and Regina thought she might have heard her heart physically break in her chest before she realised she had gasped.

“Do you not - trust me?” Regina hated how her voice sounded like a whimper. 

“Oh, no,” Emma said quickly, the realisation of her mistake dawning on her face in horror, “Regina, that’s not what I meant. I trust you, of course, I trust you. It just seems unfair to complain to you about bad marriages. “ 

That was almost worse. 

“Emma,” Regina’s voice was tight and distant, “We promised we wouldn’t let that - “

“I know, I know. we did. I don’t mean to compare, but I can’t help it.”

“My miserable excuse for matrimony is not a baseline anyone should be setting,” Regina said darkly. Emma reached out and grabbed Regina’s hand, squeezing it. “Is that why you haven’t told me what’s wrong?”

The blonde didn’t confirm or deny, just held Regina’s hand tightly. The cold metal of her wedding band felt cumbersome and foreign in their grasp. 

“Will you tell me now?” Regina’s voice was timid and unsure. 

Emma nodded, clearing her throat and disentangling her fingers from Regina’s. 

“I just thought I’d feel more needed. No one’s ever fought that hard to keep me around. I think I’ve just been waiting for all those times I gave myself to be something because he needed it to pay off. But the longer this goes on, the more I’m convinced that it never will. That I was simply a means to an end,” Emma sighed, pulling a large mouthful of wine into her mouth and letting it linger on her tongue. Mellow and sweet and comforting, in its taste and the weighted blanket it drew over her mind's rushing thoughts. “And the worst part, is I’m not even that sad about it. I should have seen the signs, but It was just so nice to be needed, you know?”

_But maybe I need you._

“Henry needs you,” Regina insisted, her past words reverberating through her mind. Did Emma not remember? Or maybe she hadn’t made it clear enough? 

_Just say it, damn it. You’ve said it before._

“I’d miss you,” Regina said instead, not quite the declaration of love. 

“Yeah? You’d spend a lot less on groceries if I wasn’t around,” Emma joked.

“Stop it. Don’t even joke, Miss Swan,” Regina said firmly, holding her gaze and not allowing any space for the blonde’s self-deprecation. She couldn’t bear to have the blonde think she held so little importance, and she wanted her to know, consequences be damned. “Emma - “

But whatever she was going to say was lost as Henry came bounding into the room, “Mom, it smells amazing! Is dinner ready yet?” Henry paused. Remembering his conversation with Snow earlier, he looked between the two women with a little more scrutiny than usual. The open bottle of wine glistening in the low light of the kitchen and the air thick with unspoken words did not go unnoticed. “I ruined a moment, didn’t I?”

Emma laughed, and Regina smiled at him, before averting her gaze. Henry squinted at her. Perhaps it was the because the only light came from above the stove and it was uncharacteristically dark in the kitchen, but he could have sworn his Mom was blushing. 

“Yes, well, timing is not your strong suit. Especially as dinner won’t be ready for another few minutes,” Regina said, finally swallowing past the lump that had lodged in her throat and clogged her voice. She wasn’t quite sure what she had been about to say, but she knew she would have regretted it if Henry hadn’t swooped in at the last second. 

“Alright,” he said, eyes still acting back and forth between the mayor and the sheriff, “I’ll just go lay the table then and leave you to it.”

The was a scraping on the floor as Emma pushed back her stool, “I’ll help.”

“Uh-uh, Swan,” Regina said, reluctantly standing and flicking on the lights, “You’re mashing the potatoes. And Henry, don’t forget the napkins.”

Just like that, they were back to normal. The evening progressed as it always did. Dinner was delicious, followed by a movie. Emma’s socked feet rested on Regina’s lap as she dozed through Henry’s superhero film while Regina tried to focus on her book. Nothing had changed, and she thought she was grateful. Relief and melancholy mingled in their familiar dance. 

As the evening came to a close, Regina was completely wiped. It had been a long forty-eight hours. It had been a long week. Padding from her ensuite, so looking forward to finally getting to sleep, she almost didn’t notice the form that had materialised in the corner of her room. 

“Mal!” She scolded in a whisper, “You scared me half to death. You can’t just materialise in someone’s house, we have trespassing laws here.”

“My apologies, dear,” Mal said, perching on the end of her bed, before a look of pure evil crossed her face, “If I’ve broken the law, you better call the sheriff. She can join us.”

Regina rolled her eyes at the obvious attempt to wind her up. Two can play at that game. 

“No need,” She crossed her arms and replied cooly, “Emma’s down the hall.”

“Is she now?” Mal inquired, more amused than anything, and Regina didn’t like what her expression implied. 

“Why are you here?”

“No need to sound so ungrateful, my pet,” Mal purred, tracing patterns on the satin bedspread, “I’m just here to check you’re okay.”

“Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?”

The blond witch tilted her head, eyes searching before asking, “You didn’t feel it?”

“Mal, I’m exhausted,” Regina sighed trying to end the conversation before it started but curiosity got the better of her, “Alright, fine. Feel what?”

“The disturbance. It happened again, I’ve spent the past couple hours trying to track it down, but to no avail.“

“Are you sure your dragon sense’s aren’t just uncalibrated from all the realm jumping?” Regina suggested, perhaps with more snark than it deserved. But upon receiving a look that would have had warriors quaking in her boots, she held up her hands in apology. 

“There is definitely something brewing in the air. I just hope it becomes obvious before it causes any harm.”

“Is it dark magic? Does it feel threatening?” Regina asked. 

“Not that I can tell.”  
  
“Excellent. In that case, it can wait until morning,” and with that, Regina finally collapsed onto the bed in exhaustion. Mal smiled fondly, standing from her perch to pull the sheets around the smaller woman, and remove the decorative cushions from the bed. She pulled the cord on the lamp with a loud click, plunging the room into darkness. 

“Shift over, raven,” she requested.

“Mmmm,” Regina hummed, already half asleep before mustering the energy to roll to the other side of the bed and mumble, “But Emma’s here, you - “

“Then perhaps I am doing you a favour, dear.”

\--

**PAST - HELL**

Standing slowly, she threw one last longing look at Daniel’s toppled tombstone. The dead grass crunched over hard dirt beneath her feet as she made her way through the stones towards Snow. 

“Thank you for coming with me, I -“ Regina noticed her companions shaking shoulders, “Oh, hey. What’s wrong?”

Snow sniffed, wiping her running nose on the sleeve of her blue jacket, nodding to the fallen gravestone. Regina recognised the name etched on its clean white surface - _Eva_. 

“Snow, this is a good thing. If Cruella is to be believed, like Daniel, she’s in a better place. That’s the best outcome.”

“I know. I know it is. I had just hoped that I could see her. Hug her. Introduce her to Emma,” Snow looked almost shy, “Ask her the things I wanted to know after we summoned Cora from the dead.”

“Well, she must have made peace with her actions, otherwise her gravestone wouldn’t be tipped,” Regina said, placing an encouraging hand on Snow's shoulder, “No unfinished business.”

“Or she never had any issue with her actions...” Snow sighed regretfully, “I’ve done things that I’m sure I have no regret over, but that drastically changed others' lives. She was no saint.”

“No, I don’t think that’s it. If your mother was as kind as you said she was, I’m sure - “ Regina broke off, recoiling her hand as if she’d been burned and a strangled gasp escaped her lips. 

“Regina?” Snow turned to look behind her and felt her stomach drop at what she saw. The usual collected Mayor was pale as a sheet, eyes blown wide and saturated with fear. “Regina, are you okay? Tell me what’s wrong?”

But Regina was rigid and unspeaking. The atmosphere in Hell was hot and muggy, that imperfect temperature of uncomfortable heat just before it tipped over into unbearable, leaving one on edge and never able to fully settle. For the first time since they arrived in Hell, Regina was freezing. Her heart was hammering in her chest and the infertile earth swayed beneath her feet and the only reason she didn’t collapse was that every muscle was taught as a bow with a notched arrow ready for release. 

Ornately decorated granite and marble leered at her, standing tall and free from the crack she so desperately wished would mar its glossy surface. But it was clear of any markings other than a name that had her torn between running and burning the whole graveyard to the ground. 

_King Leopold the White_. 

King Leopold the White was here. He was wandering around this torturous replica of her town and the thought brought her to the far border of fury. How dare he walk on her sidewalks? Look through the windows of the shops she had so carefully curated? Live in one of the houses of her design?

Snow followed her gaze and shuddered with sudden understanding, controlling her emotions so none of her lingering affection for her father was shown on her face. 

“He hasn’t come looking for me. You - “ Snow broke off, unsure, “You haven’t heard anything -“

“No,” Regina spat.

They were silent. Heavy, thick silence and Regina could feel the weight of it barring down on her chest. Perhaps if she let it crush the air from her lungs she wouldn’t have to live to worry about the consequences of the name scrawled in elegant writing. But then she remembered she was in the underworld, and death was no escape, so she gasped for breath. 

_“It’s too dangerous you have to leave now.”_

_“I promised my friends I would help"_

_“Your friends. Your family, they're what's holding you back,” Cora pleaded, “Sweetheart, You must do what’s best for you”_

_“I am,” It had felt like the truth now._

_“No, you’re not.”_

Cora’s words finally held the threat her mother had desired. She could have laughed at the irony of it if she wasn’t afraid she was going to vomit if she opened her mouth. 

Finally, cutting through the gelatinous atmosphere, Snow bravely spoke, “Do you regret it? Killing my father?”

“I think we’ve come too far for me to risk the honest answer to that,” she responded, darkly. 

“That is answer enough,” Snow said. Her expression was completely unreadable, and she was looking into the hazy horizon, too orange and too warm and the air too stale. Her face was contorted in an expression that could be easily be described as her thinking face. The face she pulled when her pesky goodness, her sense of right and wrong, were grappling with something that didn’t fit easily into her filing system.

Regina cleared her throat and wrung her hands. Exposed was never a feeling she wore well, but perhaps part of her needed the princess to understand. Not fully. Never fully. It was a broken rung in their burnt bridge that neither had addressed and Regina was happy to leave it untouched. But of course, she never was that lucky. 

“I never really thought about it before,” Snow spoke, and *oh god here we go,* “ I’m sure you’ll find that typical of me, and maybe you’re right. Growing up in court, I was used to things being the way they were, arranged marriages were just a part of that life. I thought, who wouldn’t want to be queen? And when you’re a child,” Snow struggled to get her words out, not meeting the older woman’s eyes, “When you’re young, you don’t think about adult’s ages and - “

Regina was furious, mouth set in a hard scowl, “I was hardly an adult. Seventeen is not an adult. And I had no desire to be a trophy wife.”

“I know, I know that now. I’m not trying to make excuses, Regina. By the time I was that age, we were already caught up in hating each-other, so I never thought...But, if what happened to you happened to me at that point in my life, I would have struck back too.”

Regina nodded, not needing the vindication but she couldn’t deny she felt a little lighter at the words.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Not when I was a kid, I understand that. But when I was older,” Regina frowned, “I would have understood. And even if I didn’t, if you really wanted to leave I think I would have helped. I thought you wanted to be there. I did love you.”

“I didn’t want you to know,” Regina struggled with the words. She felt like someone was peeling away her skin, just as exposing and just as painful, “Against my wishes, that instinct to protect you that I had that day in the pastures wouldn’t let me. Not that you were ever really my child...there are some things we can’t let out children help with.”

“I should have figured it out. I lived under the same roof - “

“It was a very large roof.”

“Still, I should have known.”

Regina shook her head, “It wasn’t for you know. For anyone to know. He... _and I._..made sure of that.”

“So instead of confiding in me, you blamed me instead?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too. For whatever part I played,” Snow embraced the older woman and Regina tensed in her arms so Snow pulled back slightly, but kept her arms wrapped around her. 

It was hardly an admission. Hardly the recognition years of torture Regina had endured deserved. But it was more than Regina ever thought she was going to get. And she cursed the tears that slipped between her firmly shut eyelids. 

\--

“Why do you want my daughter gone?” Cora asked, “What threat could she pose to you?”

“Ah. Tick, tick, tick. You see each clock tick means a soul has left my domain. Do I look like I like to lose anything?” 

“I did what you asked...I didn’t want to. I jeoporazied my relationship with her,” Cora begged. 

“Yes because you thought, you could get her to do what I wanted, which you couldn’t,” He smirked and the Queen of Hearts felt her blood boil, “If it makes you feel any better, she’s going to regret her decision.”

“You gave her a chance first? We had a deal,” he spoke from the shadows, emerging as the woman who was once meant to be his bride turned to leave. 

“Cora will no longer be a problem,” Hades said with a flourish, refilling his wine glass as Paganini filled the cavern. He gestured where they could both still see when he watched Cora Mills struggle with the broken barrow of flour, “I still want her gone. And since Cora failed me, I’m passing her deal onto you.”

“And that is?”

“Get rid of Regina. She’s the only one who can interfere with my plans for Zelena. That and she will distract the saviour enough to keep her out of my plans. Get rid of Regina. That should be easy enough for you. And I will give you your freedom from my cozy little town.”

“You won’t need to,” Leopold spoke, “Regina is my unfinished business.”


	4. Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! Thank you all so much for your lovely comments and kudos! They have me writing at record speed and it feels so good to be able to write again after months of being stuck firmly in a rut. 
> 
> This is the last bit of DQ but there is quite a lot of it. And while I'm here for the SQ, I can't help it I love how rich their dynamic is.
> 
> Also, all the canon events in the Underworld Saga still happened, I've just elongated the timeline. So there's more time between 'Ruby Slippers' and 'Sisters'
> 
> Chapter Title inspired by Clean by Hey Violet
> 
> Thanks again for reading! Hope you enjoy! Xx
> 
> **
> 
> T/W: Rape Aftermath, Mentions of marital and gang rape, violence. 
> 
> **

**\--**   
**THE ENCHANTED FOREST - MANY YEARS AGO**

“That was _incredible_! You - you were magnificent,” Regina gushed, her excitement getting the better of her and she blushed as the compliments spilt out of her mouth.

“Yes, dear, you’ve said,” Maleficent said, removing her horned headdress and placing it among the piles of walnut shells on her table. She flicked her wrist and the rotting fruit was replaced with fresh produce, and the discarded husks vanished leaving the marble surface clear and glistening. It was the first time in a while she had seen the surface clean, not hidden beneath dust and rubble. Dragon's fire thrummed and churned through her veins and she felt alive. More alive than she had in years.

“I can’t believe I just flew on a dragon! This is the most excitement I’ve had in - well, ages,” Regina continued her happy babbling, making herself at home on the chaise by the fire. She easily summoned a fireball, having grown stronger in the past hours in her magic and stronger in the conviction of her inevitable success. The young queen nodded happily and herself and her successful mantel. Straightening out the edges of her travelling cape, gloved hands clasped instinctually in her lap she turned to Maleficent, eyes bright with ardour, “I just knew that tree was your spark! _I knew it._ How did it feel?”

Maleficent’s chest filled with a low laugh, turning to the woman who had come uninvited into her castle scarcely a day before and had saved her twice over since and had since made herself at home in her house and in her heart.

“My dear, the tree was not my spark.”

“But, I don’t understand,” Regina asked, wide eyes drinking in the sorceress before her with fascination. Maleficent wished that she would never see the day when the woman would look at her without that swoon in her eyes (that day would come and it would be as ruinous as she feared). 

“The tree restored my magic. Yes, that is true. But magic is emotion, dear, and it needed something else,” Maleficent settled next to the young queen, taking her hands from her lap and unfastening the supple leather gloves. She peeled them off slowly and revealed in how Regina’s breath caught as her fingers ghosted over her wrists. Maleficent could feel the younger woman swoon against her, before letting out a breathy smile and a coy tilt of her head.

“Oh?”

“Indeed, dear. My spark took a little something extra to ignite it,”

“And - “ Regina stuttered, her voice high and eyes wide, “And what would that be?”

“Protecting you,” the older sorceress pressed a gentle kiss to the raven hairline, “Seeing you fight back, that fire in your eyes. You were the one who was inspiring,” she placed another kiss on Regina’s nose, “and magnificent,” another on the side of her mouth, “And beautiful.”

Regina twisted in her embrace, a small moan from the back of her throat as an invitation for the blonde to press her lips firmly against Regina’s. She leaned back and the older woman pressed forward until she was resting over her. Melting in her embrace, Mal reached up to cradle the Queen's trembling face, deepening the kiss and relishing in the quiet gasps and contented groans coming from the mouth under hers. Slinking over her with the agility of her dragon alter-ego and wedging a leg between the thighs of the young queen, she pressed upwards. But instead of the moan of pleasure she expected, Regina froze beneath her.

"Wait," the brunette gasped out, pulling back, "Wait, Stop."

Obediently, the blonde gave a breath's distance, brushing their noses as she retreated.

"You - you actually stopped?" Regina was wide-eyed with disbelief and awe.

"Of course, you asked," Mal said simply, wondering at the tears of joy that formed in the expressive wide eyes, "What is wrong, pet?"

"I - was afraid," She confessed reaching up to tangle her hands in the wild blonde hair, "I've never - I mean, I know nothing of pleasure. And certainly not with another woman. But, no one's given me space like that before. And I was afraid - " She untangled one of her hands from Mal's hair and traced over her cheek to her lips, "But I'm not now."

Surging upwards, she crashed her lips onto Maleficent's. Eager in her movements, she took no notice of how she fell back onto the plush chaise to let the older woman climb over her. She nott no notice of how her outstretched arm knocked against cold iron Toppling over with a clatter, the black raven statue crashed to the floor with a clang, shattering a small glass vial as it fell. 

“Careful, pet, I’m quite fond of that raven,” she purred, pressing her lips to the queen’s cheek and breathing down the column of her neck. 

“Oh, Maleficent. I’m so sorry, your sleeping curse,” Regina rushed out apologetically, but the older woman just laughed at the fragments of glass and the laces seawater that ran between the stones of her floor. 

“Don't apologise, darling. No harm done. I won’t be needing it anymore.” 

\--

“I was wondering what took you so long,” Mal didn’t look up as the heavy door to her main hall creaked open. 

Regina was shaking and out of breath. Her travelling cloak wasn’t even properly fastened and her long dark hair was tangled and awry. Her face was swollen and red, eye’s like glass, cheeks wet with tears. 

“Darling,” Maleficent appeared before her and pulled her to her side and sat her down on one of the chairs before the fire, Regina’s smaller body wracked with sobs. Brushing away stray hairs that stuck to her face, she desperately tried to comfort her, “Sweet raven, tell me.”

“He- he - he recognised me,” Regina gasped out into her hands.

“Who? Who recognised you?” Mal said, shifting so she was kneeling before the crying brunette.

But she shook her head, rich curls flying wildly at the movement. She brought her bare feet up to rest on the chair and hid her face in her knees. The movement shifted her nightgown and Maleficent caught a whiff of a familiar scent. 

Maleficent had been so swept up in worry for the younger woman that she had ignored her senses. Senses that were now building with fury. It wasn’t the first time Regina had come running to her door after the King had his way with her. She knew that scent, but there was something else mixed in with the usual putrid aroma of blood and carnal abuse that stank of King Leopold. King Leopold and something - no someone - else...someone else she recognised. 

Sniffing the air again to make sure she was right, she ground her teeth so hard she thought they might break, and seethed in anger “Stephan.”

Regina nodded, deathly still save her shaking shoulders. 

“What happened?” Mal demanded.

“The King, he - “ brown eye’s peered out from between her crossed arms, “He invited the King of a neighbouring kingdom over. I didn’t know it would be him until he arrived. I knew he recognised me, and when he requested a private audience I thought he was going to out me. I thought he was going to tell the King that he had seen me with you, I had helped you defeat his guards and lock his wife in your prison and curse his daughter. But he - he didn’t say anything. Except the King came to me later and he said, his friend was hurting because his daughter was cursed and his wife was captured. He said he needed some cheering up and...and ‘ _What’s the point of having a new toy if you can’t share it with your friends, Regina_?’” The brunette spat the words with distaste. The dragon’s hatred for her husband burned in her and she forced herself to listen to the gruesome tale. 

But Regina had frozen in her recounting, fingers tightly gripping the bunched fabric of her nightgown. Maleficent only then noticed the tears in the delicate lace and the dirty stains of grime, ale and blood that marred white cotton. Beneath the ruined cloth, purple bruised were blooming on her knees. 

Regina shuddered, following Mal’s gaze before continuing, “Stephan knew I had magic, but I couldn’t use it in front of the King. Or if I objected he would tell the kingdom. So I had to - I mean, he knew I was trapped and I let them - “ Regina dissolved into another bout of wracking sobs, leaning forward into Maleficent’s soothing embrace. 

Grey smoke billowed at her feet, she was barely holding off the dragon. Forcing herself to stay rooted on the spot as the younger woman kept her arms wrapped firmly around her waist. 

“Mal?” She said pulling away slowly, noticing the vapouring soot that swirled around her.

“I’ll kill him,” she seethed, “I shouldn’t have spared him. I’m so sorry my pet.”

“It’s not your fault - “

“I’ll kill him,” She repeated firmly, “I’ll kill them both. Their deaths will last for weeks and I’m going to enjoy every second - ”

“No.”

“Raven, they don’t deserve your mercy,” Mal said, shaking her head.

“And they are not going to get it. But I want to be the one to kill the king. I want to watch the light leave his eyes. I want him to know exactly who is responsible for his last breath,” Regina’s eyes hardened, pain fossilising into hate, “I want - I _need_ my revenge.”

“And how much longer are you going to endure this for your revenge?” she fretted. 

“As long as it takes,” Regina bit back, and Mal sighed. They’d had this argument before. Since exacting her own revenge on Briar Rose, the dragon had calmed slightly. She had no need for her sleeping curse, and her withdrawal from the drug wouldn’t have been possible if it wasn’t for Regina’s attentive adoration. She’d felt her heart softening whenever the brunette was around, and thoughts of vengeance and destruction faded into the background.

That was until tonight, when her complacency with King Stephan had allowed for such horrendous events to unfold. Her own unwillingness to kill him had allowed him to violate the only light in her life. It had been so easy to forget the feelings she suspected were love and slip into her old habit of hatred and revenge. Sorrowful and heavy, she drifted back over to Regina, and stroked her forehead. 

“I’m sorry, my raven. I was so angry I forgot what’s most important,” She waved her hand and Regina’s ruined nightdress appeared in the roaring flames in the fireplace and she was re-cloaked in a clean one. The bruised on her knees turned from purple to blue to yellow before disappearing completely. She stretched out her hand, waiting for Regina’s permission. Upon receiving a nod, the blonde splayed a palm beneath the smaller woman’s navel and shut her eyes. After taking a few heavy breaths and focusing her magic she visibly relaxed, “You are at no risk of pregnancy, dear. Stephan appears to be just as wilted as your husband and my protection spell is still firmly in place.”

Heaving a sigh of relief, Regina nodded and regained some of her composure, “Thank heavens. And Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank, dear. Would you like a bath?”

Regina shook her head, “I have to get back. They’ll suspect if I’m gone for too long.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Mal threatened menacingly, “The palace is going to have a bigger emergency on its hands that you spending a few hours to yourself. I'll spare the King, but Stephan's disappearance will cause enough of a stir that you should be able to rest.”

Regina softened, “Maybe I could do with a few hour’s sleep. If I’m going to have to pretend to mourn that monster tomorrow.”

Mal smiled, before uncorking a bottle on her table and summoning a small vial and a glass goblet. She poured the honey-coloured mead into the glass and gently dropped a small splash of potion into it. She had calmed slightly, and Mal’s cold heart flickered with affection and pride for the role she played in helping the brunette.

“Sleeping potion,” She offered it to Regina, who took the goblet dubiously.

“You’re not trying to curse me?” She asked, sniffing the liquid and taking a small sip before waiting for an answer. 

Mal laughed fondly at the obvious display of trust. “Of course not, pet. Just a few hours of dreamless sleep.”

Regina licked the sweet alcohol off her bruised lips and hummed gratefully, before sinking further into the chair, the potion already taking its effect. Maleficent ran her hands through long chocolate curls, straightening out her mussed hair, and grimacing as she wiped blood and other fluids from it. 

“Come pet, off to bed. You can’t sleep here.”

“I don’t want to get up. I like this chair,” she mumbled, nuzzling her face into one of the rich furs draped over violet velvet before letting the sleeping potion take over.

“Then it’s yours,” Mal said pressing a kiss to her brow, “Sleep. I’ll be back before you wake up.”

Vanishing in a cloud of slate smoke, she left the sleeping woman to exact justice. 

\--

The chair that Regina loved was empty these days. More than once, Mal had lifted her hand to torch it and rid herself of the painful reminder, but she could never quite bring herself to do it. On other days she would curl up at its feet and sob into the violet velvet, and desperately try to catch a whiff of Regina. But every day the lingering smell faded, and the chair did nothing but collect dust in its dark corner of the room. 

She missed Regina so much, that even in the wake of losing her child, it still had the power to sting her heart. It felt like Regina was dead, and she might as well have been considering the twisted monster Rumplestiltskin had sculpted her into. She threw her goblet across the room at the thought of the dark one, and how he had warped her sweet, fierce lover. How he had goaded her into attacking Maleficent just a few months ago before abandoning her without a care. 

“Now, dear is that any way to act in front of a guest,” A familiar voice said. Mal turned, shocked to find the problematic furniture suddenly very occupied, purple smoke evaporating in the cold air.

“I don’t recall inviting you here. Get out of that chair,” Mal said, hating the version of the woman she once loved that sat so comfortably in her place.

“No, no. That’s not how this goes I’m afraid,” The Queen ordered, “I’m here for some answers. Relating to a particularly nasty rumour that’s been circling around the castle.” Devoid of the warmth that had once ignited the dragon’s cold heart, Regina’s gaze was empty. She was already in so much pain over her child, Maleficent couldn’t bear the loveless glare that was sent her way. She sighed, grabbing a small bottle from the table before crossing to face her. 

“Pet, unless you plan on attacking me again, I am not interested in having this conversation with you,” Mal sighed dejectedly falling onto her chaise. 

“You don’t have a choice,” The Evil Queen sneered, leaning forward threateningly, “Not after what I heard. And I thought it couldn’t possibly be true. So, against my better judgement considering our last encounter, I had to find out for myself if you as much of a traitor as they claim you to be.”

“Don’t toy with me...”

She laughed, a false tinkle and a malicious grin, “Of course, I didn’t believe them. How could it be possible that my only friend and longest confidence would side with my greatest enemy. That they would work together, along with that idiot she calls a husband, to put an end to the Dark Curse.”

Maleficent didn’t answer, she just stared into the cold empty fireplace. She hadn't lit a fire in that grate since Regina had left. 

“So it’s true,” The Evil Queens voice was tight, and Mal thought she caught a look of sadness cross her features. A flicker of emotion was like a ghost of the woman she used to be. But it was gone as quickly as it arrived, and the firm mask of anger and vicious outrage was back, “You took Snow White to the Tree of Wisdom to stop me!”

“Oh get over it. You attacked me for a curse, and now you have the audacity to come here and accuse me of betrayal.”

“I took a piece of paper. You - “ she stuttered in her screeching fury, “You, you of all people, know what that wretched girl did to me! What she condemned me to! How could you?! I thought you cared for me!”

“It wasn’t personal,” Mal said blankly. 

“Well,” Regina responded haughtily, and Mal turned away. The dramatics that came with the Evil Queen was just a painful reminder of what she had lost, “If it wasn’t personal, neither will my inevitable retaliation be personal.”

“Do what you want with me, I don’t care,” Mal shrugged, pressing the needle of a spinning wheel into the pad of her thumb. The numbing cold and the way it twisted behind her eyes were sweet relief from the torment of her own mind.

“When I cast my curse, and thank you for returning that,” Regina mocked, “When it comes, I have a very special punishment in mind for you. One perfectly suited for someone I trusted so completely and who betrayed me.”

“I didn’t betray you,” Mal slurred out through her drug-addled haze, “I was trying to help you. Please, Regina, you - ”

“It’s _your majesty_ ,” The Evil Queen spat before disappearing. 

\--  
\--

PRESENT

Gentle blue light spilt through the large bay window of the guest room. Blaring Emma out of the soft sleep, her phone screen flicked to life with an irritating chime. But Emma, who was not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, had no trouble getting up early. She like to be up before Regina, who, annoyingly, was a morning person. Which meant the sheriff had to rise very early to be the one who made the coffee and sliced the toast or warmed the porridge. So for the first time in her life, she found springing out of bed less of a chore and more of a means to an end. The ‘end’ being Regina’s smile of gratitude. 

Regina had slunk down the stairs looking no better rested than the evening before. Pausing on Emma’s offer of breakfast, she sat silently as Emma placed the steaming mug before her. Pulling the sides of her silk robe closer around her shoulders, she beamed up at her through tired eyes.

_Mission accomplished, Swan. Mission accomplished._

Emma sat down next to her, satisfied with what she would deem a successful morning and basking in her triumph. Until...

“Uh, Mom? Ma, is she okay?” Henry said, mouth full of Regina’s homemade granola.

Emma looked to her side to see the brunette asleep in her seat. She was leaning forward, elegant fingers still clasped around the handle of her coffee cup, forehead resting on its rim. 

“Oh, Woah. Hey, Regina?” She said, shaking the other woman gently and gingerly removing the cup of boiling coffee from where it was in danger of spilling. 

“Mmm, I’m okay,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes in a movement that Emma would have found unbearably adorable if she wasn’t so worried. 

“You got what, nine hours sleep? And you’re falling asleep in your coffee! That’s not exactly okay,” Emma said, rubbing her back gently. 

“Yeah, are you sick or something?” Henry asked, tactlessly, before picking up his bowl to drink the milk.

“‘M not sick,” Regina murmured, “And don’t slurp, Henry. It’s not polite.”

“I take it back, she’s fine,” Henry deadpanned. 

Emma wasn’t so easily convinced, “Maybe you should go back to bed.”

Looking up at her with wide eyes, face free from makeup and sleep tousled hair, Regina pouted and Emma felt her heart lurch in her chest at the sight. “But you made breakfast...” She trailed off with regret.

“I made toast, it’s not exactly Eggs Benedict. You can have some in a few hours. The town will survive one morning of you sleeping in.”

Regina looked down at her untouched coffee, clinging to it as if it was the most important thing in the world. Emma had made it for her, so perhaps to her, in that moment, it was.

“But - “

“No arguing, or do I need to carry you?” Emma joked. Regina flushed at the reminder of just who Emma would find upstairs if she did. That and the experience of Emma Swan carrying her up her stairs to deposit her in bed might just kill her. 

“You should definitely carry her,” Henry said, scheming behind the rim of his cereal bowl, as Emma shot him a deadly look. 

“I am perfectly capable of walking, thank you,” Regina said, standing slowly. She made her way over to Henry and gave him a kiss on the cheek, before sleepily slurring, “Have a good day at school.”

Henry gave his mom a half armed hug, not getting from his seat, “Will do.”

Regina then crossed back to where Emma was, and perhaps it was the exhaustion, but she automatically repeated the motion, pressing her lips to the Saviour’s cheek, and muttered in the same loving voice, “Thanks for the coffee.”

She pulled back, growing hot at her momentary lapse in restraint, but Emma just smiled at her. Deciding it was best to excuse herself and go back to sleep before she made any more mistakes, she smiled tentatively back and made her way from the room.

Emma was blushing, and she didn’t even care if anyone noticed, because Regina Mills had just kissed her and she could die happy. On the cheek, maybe, but it had whole body thrumming with excitement. Her heart was racing and she was sure she was going to strain a muscle in her face if she smiled any wider. Bright green eyes followed her retreating figure until she was out of sight, and she sighed happily touching the spot on her cheek that burned with the imprint. 

Her happy bubble was broken, when she turned around and was face-to-face with her very amused son, who was giving her a smug look from across the table. He looked much too entertained watching the scene unfold and Emma didn’t like it. 

“What?” Emma asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Henry’s smile doubled, “Oh...no reason,” he said, trying to look innocent. 

Emma knew that look. It was exactly the look Regina gave when she was gleefully plotting someone’s demise, and it looked just as adorable and terrifying on her son as it did her. But it didn’t matter because Emma could still feel the ghost of Regina’s lips on her cheeks and nothing was going to shake her good mood. 

Love made people do silly things. Like while alerting City Hall that Regina would come in later than usual, mentioning that she also wouldn’t be coming in today. She spent the morning milling around the ground floor of the mansion. Lounging in the living room with coffee and the television on, sending a few completed arrest reports from her iPad in the study. It wasn’t until she heard movement upstairs again and she made her way back to the kitchen to put on another pot of coffee, that her blissful domestic morning came crashing down around her. 

“Good morning,” someone spoke from the bottom of the stairs. The voice that wished her well was not the one she expected and she whipped around to confirm her suspicions.

Bold as brass, and looking annoying unperturbed at finding Emma milling around Regina’s home, Maleficent stood on the bottom step of the staircase, looking through to the kitchen. Grey silk pyjamas that were too short and swung around her ankles did little to detract from the tall and imposing figure she cut. Grey silk pyjamas that definitely belonged to the Mayor of Storybrooke and not her half-dragon companion. 

So that’s why Regina was so tired.

The sound of electrical short-circuiting drew their attention to the coffee machine and the smell of burnt arabica mixed with melting plastic filled Emma’s nostrils. With a shocking smash, the glass carafe shattered in the machine, sending hot coffee running across the counter and dripping onto the floor. Shards of the pot floated in their river of caffeine, either tinkling to the ground or drying up scattered around the counter where the liquid ran too thin. 

Emma flushed in embarrassment. Losing control of her magic yet again was inconvenience enough, but to do so in front of one as powerful and schooled as Maleficent - well now that was just plain humiliating.

“Well, well,” the dragon witch said with intrigue, “I see I’ve found my disturbance.”

“Disturbance? Hey! That’s not fair, Regina invited me - “

Maleficent laughter was free of malice as she strolled further into the kitchen, flicking her wrist. Shards of the fragmented pot reassembled and the pot was once again full of hot coffee. Emma flushed with embarrassment. 

“I mean magical disturbance dear,” Mal said simply, coming up to the Saviour and taking one of her hands to examine it inquisitively. 

The sharp intake of breath Emma rook at the contact filled her nose with the smell of smoke. Smoke wrapped in a scent that Emma was so familiar with. It wafted up at the movement of the silk robe over Mal’s arms, as she twisted Emma’s hand looking for signs of magic. Enticing freesia and patchouli of Regina’s perfume clung to the woman before her, soaked into the silk of her borrowed sleep ware. Emma one again felt the heave of envious resentment, and the smell disappeared behind the taste of burning caramel on her tongue like she'd been electrocuted. The lights above the island began to flicker and all six burners of the gas range stove clicked to life.

Curious blue eyes followed the flickering lights to the blue flames. “Hmmm, interesting. Am I to assume you aren’t doing this on purpose?” Mal asked clinically, continuing to examine Emma’s hand. The Saviour shook her head, wincing Maleficent released her limb to gaze questioningly into her face.

“So completely out of your control?” She asked again.

“It’s not a big deal - “

“Oh quite the contrary. It is a big deal, otherwise, I wouldn’t have spent the past few days trying to track down its source,” Maleficent’s piercing gaze and fierce tone had Emma fidgeting in discomfort, “Tell me, child, how long has this been going on?”

Emma shifted her weight from one foot to the other, taking a step back and shoving her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, “Uh, a few days I guess. Seriously, it’s nothing to freak out about. It’s happened before.”

Ignoring her feeble placations, Mal continued to scrutinise the obviously uncomfortable Saviour, “And what bring’s these electric episodes?”

“I don’t know,” Emma said quickly. 

“Uh-huh,” she drawled, seeing through the lie, “There’s nothing out of the ordinary that happened at all? No repeated threat? Or something you’re thinking about each time? Something that might elicit a strong emotional reaction?”

“No. Nothing,” Emma thickly swallowed the lie.

Disbelieving, Mal held her gaze trying to discern if Emma was telling the truth. Emma couldn’t help her eyes flick up over Maleficent shoulder to the stairs that led to the landing, as if she could see through the walls into the room beyond where there were signs of someone stirring. Retraining her gaze to the woman before her, she gulped and hoped Maleficent hadn’t noticed her slip up. Simpering with a grin of perception, her narrowed eyes told the Saviour that she had very much seen her reaction and had a very good grasp on what it meant. 

“I see,” Mal drawled. Above them, the sound of a door shutting signalled that the woman who was meant to be sleeping was awake. 

“Oh. No. You don’t understand - “ Emma rushed, the soft beat of approaching footsteps like the ticking of a time bomb. She had to fix this before Regina appeared in time to witness Mal uncovering her secret. Mal, who had easily called her out on her feelings for Regina before, and she had a sinking feeling she was about to do it again.

“I think I understand perfectly, dear. Probably better than most,” Mal said.

“No it’s just - nothing. It’s really nothing.” Emma panicked as the steps started their inevitable descent down the curved staircase. 

“Mm-hm, I can see that,” Mal responded sarcastically. 

“Mal, I can’t believe you let me sleep this late. I’ve got a meeting at - Oh,” Regina said, turning into the kitchen she stopped in shock, “Emma. Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Took the morning off. I - uh - wanted to make sure you weren’t sick or anything,” Emma mumbled at her feet. Regina gave her a small smile of warm affection, and the spot on Emma’s cheek burned again. 

“Reschedule your meeting for this afternoon,” Mal said, “I thought I told you to stay in bed.”

“Sorry, I thought I smelt burning. Oh, great, more coffee. Thank you, Emma,” Regina said, yawning again as she padded barefoot to the coffee machine before stopping in her tracks, “Why is the stove on?”

“Well, It seems that - “ Mal started, looking highly amused. 

“My fault,” Emma blurted out, trying to meet Maleficent’s eyes. She could hardly handle the idea of answering the dragon witch’s questions in the first place, let alone divulging in front of Regina. “I was trying something. You know, because I’ve been having trouble with my magic.”

“Trying something with Mal?” Regina asked, disbelievingly looking between the two women. 

“Yes,” Maleficent lied easily, “Emma and I are going to have a few lessons. Aren’t we, child?”

Emma bristled slightly at the demeaning nickname, but was grateful for the cover and remembered that Maleficent was likely several centuries her senior. She nodded, “Yep. Thought some scary dragon magic might fix whatever has got my magic on the fritz.”

Regina snorted, “Good luck with that, Mal. She’s a difficult student.”

“Hey!” Emma objected, “I’m your best student!”

“Tell yourself whatever you need to hear, dear,” Regina jested fondly, before taking a large sip of coffee and meeting Emma’s eyes over the rim of her steaming mug. Bright eyes flicked to Emma’s cheek and darkened, swallowing the hot caffeine with a moan of bliss, “Emma, thank you for breakfast. Twice in one day, I might add. What did I do to deserve this?”

Emma stammered through her rising blush and Mal looked amusedly between the two. Emma knew she was in for a long day. 

Long didn’t even begin to cover it. Trudging through the forest, struggling to keep up with the long elegant stride of Maleficent was not how she saw the afternoon going. Her boots slipped in the damp mud, sliding through sodden debris making the ascension more difficult than it needed to be. Waving pines creaked in the afternoon breeze and the cool Maine autumn was looming over the last days of summer. It would have been a pleasant experience, the kind of treks through nature that leaves one exhilarated and centred if it hadn’t been for her trepidation over what the dragon queen had planned.

“You know, when you said we were going to have a magic lesson, I thought you were just covering my ass,” Emma said,

“I am covering your ass,” Mal said smoothly, effortlessly gliding over the terrain, “Unless I misinterpreted your glares this morning, and you wanted me to tell Regina you’re carrying a flame for her?” Emma said nothing, “Didn’t think so. So, I’m doing us both a favour.”

“Look, I’m not trying to get between you and your reunion with Regina, if that’s what you’re worried about,” the statement came with a swift kick to the nearest root. Instantly she wished she had found a different outlet for her irritation as she stumbled and had to grab a fistful of brambles to keep herself upright.

“She’s not sleeping enough as it is. I don’t want her worrying about you and your magic too. At least not any more than she already is,” Mal said, gripping tightly to her staff as used it to part brambles that curled over their path and easing the stinging in Emma’s palm.

“If you’re so bothered with Gina’s sleeping patterns may be you should - oh I don’t know - stop showing up in the middle of the night. You know, when people sleep,” the Saviour’s voice filled with signature sarcasm.

“Regretfully, I am not the primary cause of her sleepless nights,” Mal lamented, voice tinged with disquiet, “Tell me, is she talking with anyone?”

“Talking? What do you mean? She just spoke to us, like, what? Three hours ago?” Emma said, squinting at the sun. 

“Lily said that in this world there are people you can speak to about - things - and they help you. A brain physician,” Mal grasped for the word, and Emma was reminded that she had actually spent very little time in this realm, “Lily went for a time. She said speaking to someone helped her to work through her anger.”

“Oh you mean like a therapist,” Emma clarified, “I mean, Regina saw Archie for a little while a few years ago. But that was because she went cold turkey on the magic. That’s not really an issue anymore. I don’t think she’s been since. Talking about her problems isn’t exactly her favourite pastime.”

“No,” Mal affirmed, with a fond chuckle. “No it’s not. And this cricket, could he help with nightmares?”

“Regina’s having nightmares?” Emma implored seriously, all jibbing comments put aside. 

"I haven't seen her sleep more than an hour straight. I think it's catching up with her," Mal said, worry evident in her tone. Emma was about to ask her to elaborate as they came to a clearing before Maleficent stopped and announced, “Alright, we’re here.”

“And where exactly is here?” Emma asked, about to take another step forward. Mal shot out her arm to hold her back.

“Careful, don’t step into the ring yet,” she warned.

Emma looked to her feet at the chalk lines that had been poured in the dirt, swirled with runic writing and carefully placed stones. A pile of brand new candles sat fresh and burned in the centre. 

“So this is your idea of a romantic evening out?” Emma said, cooly, crossing her arms. 

“Not quite what I’d call it, but yes this is the spell Regina and I were trying to cast the night before last,” Maleficent explained, perching on a fallen log and crossing her legs. Emma took a moment to take in the sorceress. She was more relaxed, and certainly less poised, than the Mayor. Rough around the edges and certainly volatile, the blonde marvelled at how, even though they had already established their mutual interest in Regina, she felt very little threat from the intimidating witch. 

“Um, so what does it do?”

“It was meant to capture the magic or at least a small portion of it, that was causing the tremors through the town. Capture a little of it and trace it to its source,” the sorceress explained, “Now, part of our problem was we didn’t know what we were looking for. I’m hoping, now that we do know, capturing it should be easier.”

“And capturing it, is that going to stop me losing control?”

“Oh, no child. We're only taking a small bit, like a sample. But, it will help us to better understand it,” Mal said.

“I still don’t understand why you’re so bothered with this. I’m not dangerous,” she defended.

“Quite the opposite, Saviour. These magical reactions are reverberating through the whole town. I’m afraid as the Saviour you can’t afford the repercussions of being out of control.”

“But I’m not really the Saviour anymore. The final battle already happened, my Saviour magic hasn’t been around since.”

“But you still have your magic, correct?”

Emma nodded.

“When you broke the Black Fairy’s curse, winning the final battle, your saviour magic became as intertwined with Storybrooke as is was after the first curse. While you may not think you have Saviour magic anymore, you still carry its magical imprint and its magic, which is a part of this town, is part of you.”

“Sooooo...” Emma trailed off, still unsure of where this is going.

“So, child, you are still connected to the very fabric of this town's existence. Perhaps now more than before. Magic carries a unique fingerprint, it has a unique personality to each user. And just because your’s has been split, don’t mean the two halves aren’t still part of you.”

“So when my magic is disturbed or out of control - “

“It disturbs the magic protecting this town.” Maleficent finished, “Yes, well done. So unless you foresee your feelings for our dear Regina getting under control, we have to find a way to fix this.”

“Shit,” Emma whispered under her breath.

“Indeed.”

“You can’t breathe a word of this to Regina,” Emma pleaded.

“Why ever not, dear?” Mal asked with an annoyingly devious look in her sky blue eyes, bright red lips twisting in a sly smile.

“Because,” Emma stressed desperately, “Because she will want to get involved. And if she’s involved, it won’t take long for her to figure out that she’s the reason I’m having these slip-ups.”

“So why don’t you tell her before she figures it out?”

“I - well - what? Are you crazy?” Emma asked, eyes wide and sporting her signature what-the-hell-am-I-hearing look.

“Why not?”

“Oh, I don’t know, dragon lady. I’ve only spent the past few years trying ensuring she has no idea how I feel about her. But sure,” Emma threw her arms in the air, exasperated, “I’ll just ruin the best thing in my life for the sake of a few minor magical driving issues!”

Mal raised an eyebrow, looking wholly unimpressed with Emma’s outburst.

“Besides, shouldn’t you be telling me to stay away from your - girlfriend? Fuck buddy? Or whatever?” Emma asked, crossing her arms and pouting. “Actually, I don’t want you to tell me what you are.”

“Emma - “ Maleficent smelt smoke.

“I just don’t understand,” Emma continued, over Mal’s interruption, “why you of all people would want me to - “

“Emma - “ The scent was getting stronger.

“Unless this is some master plan to embarrass me so I don’t spend the night when you’re - “

“Emma! Hush and stop this rambling. When I first met Regina, she was young. Old beyond her scarce twenty years but still carrying the effervescent and vivaciousness that comes with youth. And the Evil Queen had yet to take root in her heart. A heart that loved so fiercely,” Mal spoke wistfully, before smiling and looking to Emma. She felt guilty for her snide remarks to Maleficent, seeing the sadness and loss in her eyes, “You would have loved her.”

“I love her now,” Emma said plainly. She hadn’t said those words aloud to anyone, but she suddenly felt her secret was safe with Mal. 

Behind her defensive stance, she didn’t notice the crackling spark on a wick one of the unlit candles. Maleficent quickly took note of the small flame that had sprung to life. 

Mal tried not wear her triumph too plainly. Finally, they were getting somewhere.

“I know,” Mal smiled, before her expression contorted in sadness, “I loved her then.”

“But not now?”

“There were a few years - a stage of Regina’s life - where I couldn’t love her anymore. That part of her, the part the Dark One contorted and gnarled into a weapon, was too painful for me to watch. After I love who she was before, who she became wasn’t enough and I turned my back. Not that I particularly regretted it, as it meant I got Lily. And Lily will always be my priority,” Mal shook her head, not afraid of exposing herself with Emma. Not when Regina trusted her, “But the Evil Queen was someone I couldn’t love. Even you wouldn’t have - “

“Nope, I quite liked that version too,” Emma responded plainly and another candle in the ring lit up. 

“How would you know?“

“There was a time travel thing. And she sort of became her own person for a while - look it’s a long story,” Emma blushed hotly, but the looks of understanding the surprisingly sympathetic sorceress was giving her she continued, “The point is, I don’t think there’s a singe version of Regina I don’t like.” 

“Mmmm, that’s probably the biggest difference between us. And likely a big part of why she is so fond of you,” Mal said wistfully.

A flutter of something that felt a little too close to hope twinkled in Emma’s heart, and yet another candle sprung to life. 

“She is?”

“Of course she is, dear,” Mal declared, amazed at how dense the pair were committed to being, “You hold a very special and completely irreplaceable part in her life. I think you have much more of a chance with her than you think. Regina’s affection for you is unrivalled, even by me. ”

“Don’t - that’s not - were just friends.”

“Regina loves fiercely, my dear, and she is fiercer for no one more than you.”

A whole string of candles jumped to life, one after another as if connected by a lit fuse.

“What?” Emma whispered fiercely, not daring to trust the warmth in her chest as the air rushed from her lungs. It took her a moment as she struggled to remember how to breathe and her brain grappled with what Maleficent, someone who knew Regina so well, was implying. “She - she what?”

“Surely you must have noticed? No?” Mal asked, and upon receiving no response “No wonder Zelena’s been losing her mind... you two are unbearable.”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Emma defended, “I’m her family. Of course she has...affection for me.”

“Tell yourself whatever you need to, dear,” Mal consoled, but rolled her eyes as soon as the saviour looked away. Emma sighed, dropping down to sit next to the dragon sorceress. 

“It’s all besides the point, anyway,” Emma said, and Mal looked between her dejected expression and the newly lit candles that were losing their flames and smoking in their extinguished state. “I was too afraid to risk what we had. I still am! And now I’m too late. So I guess I’ll just have to live with it.” She waved her left ring finger with disgust, and Mal’s eyes were drawn to the ring that glinted in the afternoon sun. 

“Husbands can be gotten rid of.”

“Not this one,” Emma mumbled darkly.

“I fail to see the reasoning behind that,” Mal prompted. 

“It’s complicated,” Emma sighed, defeated. Mal recognised it as her way of stopping the conversation. As quickly as they had been lit, the flames that had been popping up across her sigil had disappeared.

Damn it. I need a new tactic, Mal thought before remembering the incident with the coffee machine. 

“Well, lucky for me you didn’t,” the dragon sorceress mocked, switching tactics and purposefully trying to get a rise out of the saviour. 

“What?” Emma said, astounded at what she was hearing, “I thought you were on my side.”

“Of course I am dear, but I can’t let my darling Regina sleep alone. Especially when she has nightmares that need soothing, and you’re too much of a coward to do it.”

Glimmering amongst the brush of the forest floor candles were flicking alight again and quickly. 

Of course, Mal chided herself under the heat of the Saviour’s glare.

Emma was well practised in keeping her hopes concerning love under control. She had schooled herself over the years in firmly squashing any affection or attraction that it was habitual. Jealousy, on the other hand...well, that she had less practice in. 

“Besides, I taught her all about pleasure and love,” Mal boasted, self-satisfied and preening, knowing exactly how to get under the Saviour’s skin, “I guess really there is no one better suited to be catering to her every need. Thanks to you, and your inability to act - “ 

“That's not fair.”

“No I guess it’s not fair. That I should come swooping in after all these years to pick up the pieces, taking up all her free time after all you've done for her,” Mal gloated, “Did you know I was her first orgasm? It was spectacular, and really a shame you’ll never get to see it. Probably a good thing for her, I know how to wring every drop of ecstasy - “

“Stop,” Emma clenched, all fierceness and fire, “Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Didn’t it fill you with anger to watch her tell Robin how much she loved him? And to think now she could be whispering those words to someone else all over again.”

“Enough! Why are you doing this?”

“Take a look behind you, dear, and find out,” Mal said smoothly, undeterred by her anger, waving an arm to the sigil. 

The unlit candles with their fresh char-free wicks were all burning brightly. The wind through the undergrowth had no effect on their flames that resisted the need to bend or flicker. Mal worked her face into a smug smile. 

“Apologies for the collateral, but you we need to sort this out quickly if you are so easily angered,” Mal smirked, and tapped her with her staff in some bizarre form of comfort. Emma was steaming where she stood, like cold water doused over a hot plate. 

“That was mean,” Emma finally ground out, feeling juvenile and embarrassed that she had been so easily tricked into loosing control again.

“Well, I am no saint. Now that we’ve captured a little bit of that magic, we can start,” Mal stood, crossing the line in the dirt and gesturing for Emma to follow. “Brace yourself.” 

And Emma knew that a the long day was only about to get longer.

  
\--

UNDERWORLD 

Her hands quickly sifted through the unfamiliar files that sat in familiar filing cabinets. She could hear someone’s approach on the other side of the frosted glass door of the Mayor’s office and she doubled her efforts. The footsteps increased in speed and heaviness and whoever was heading towards her office was picking up speed and she couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy. She’d been uneasy since her discovery in the graveyard, and constantly looking over her shoulder had her in a constant state of paranoia. But they needed those pages, so she slammed shut the drawer of her filing cabinet and opened the next one, heart racing.

The jiggling of the doorknob had Regina almost jumping out of her skin, grateful she had the foresight to lock the door. But the feeble bolt didn’t seem to be a deterrent to whoever was trying to force their way in. She turned, hands raised as the pounds on the door stopped and she heard retreating footsteps. The silence was heavy and she felt her fingers shaking. Had whoever it was left?

In a sudden burst of noise, she could hear the footsteps break into a run, and - oh god they were going to break her door down! She conjured up two fireballs and recoiled her arm, ready to hurl them at whoever came ploughing through her door.

Crashing through the splintering wood, the bolt gave way and the door flung open and in tumbled Emma Swan. Blonde hair whipped around her face and red leather jacket handing off one arm. 

“Regina!” Emma stormed into the room, looking slightly wild and dishevelled from her break-in, “There you are. God, you had me worried. You can’t just disappear like that!”

Regina did little to hide her relief, clinging her fists by her side and grateful she had stopped herself in time to not hurl flames at Emma, “Emma! What is the meaning of this?”

“You disappeared,” Emma repeated plainly, strolling over to Regina and checking her over, “No one knew where you were, and down here I can only imagine that means the worst. I promised I’d keep you safe.”

“Don’t be ridiculous - Wait. Promised who? Did Robin put you up to this? Because if he did, I swear I’ll - “ Regina was getting riled up. How dare he? 

“No it wasn’t Robin. It doesn’t matter. But now that he has taken his and Zelena’s baby into the woods, I don’t like the idea of you wandering around on your own,” Emma said, flopping onto the replica of Regina’s sofa, “Not that I trust that thief with your protection. Not after the heart incident.”

“I’m hardly in danger, this is my office,” Regina said rolling her eyes and trying to ignore the affection she had for the blonde. Her own personal Saviour. 

“Not here it’s not,” Emma said, contemplating the porcelain dog statue that sat in place of the delicately carved horse that had sat in Regina’s office for as long as the office had been hers, “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought Henry already looked here.”

“As conniving as your son is, he does not know everything I keep in my office. Nor does he know all my hiding spots, like I let him believe.”

“Why is it, when he’s being an angel he’s our son, but as soon as he’s in trouble, suddenly he’s my problem?” 

“He certainly didn’t learn such sloppy scheming behaviour from me,” Regina teased, “He was a perfect angel before you drove into town.”

Emma’s laughter was sharp and too joyous for this terrible realm, she playfully snickered “Regina! You literally cursed a whole town. Are you trying to tell me that that wasn’t nefarious and carefully plotted evil?”

“Precisely. Careful plotting is quite different from sloppy scheming,” Regina preened, enjoying their gentle ribbing, “If Henry had the ingenious cunning conspiracy to curse the town, I’d be brimming with pride.”

“You don’t meant that,” Emma laughed again.

“Well I know how much work goes into it. I’d at least be impressed with that,” Regina said, before turning to the intruder with her hands on her hips, “Instead of lounging around, you could help.”

“If you insist,” Emma responded, gracelessly rolling onto the floor and grabbing half the stack of papers from Regina. The former queen fondly rolled her eyes at the Saviours antics and wondered how this was the person her heart had chosen so firmly. An adorable pout graced the blonds face as she stared down the piles of files, “This really must be hell. Look at all this paperwork.”

“Were just looking for any missing storybook pages to help Henry. You don’t have to fill out any forms,” Regina grinned, “And thank god. The only relief of this whole endeavour is I’ve had a few weeks away from your thoroughly botched paperwork.”

“Hey! Does this mean you don’t like my doodles?” Emma cheerfully challenged, “I thought my latest rendition of you was great. Worthy of an exhibition at The Met.”

“I was riding a unicorn,” Regina said dryly, “And throwing apples at your mother.”

“Hilarious, right?” 

“Whatever you say, Miss Swan,” Regina replied, huffing out a reluctant laugh. 

They stayed on the floor, the marble colder than usual and not giving into warmth no longer how much body heat it was exposed to. Eventually, their joints began to object to their cinched positions and their eyes straining at their insurmountable task. The perpetual apricot haze had given way to inky black night, and the uncomfortable heat had turned to polar chill. 

“Ugh - this is taking ages and I’m starving,” Emma whined, dropping another file, its contents spilling onto the dejected pile. 

Sighing in defeat, Regina neatly placed the stack she was sorting through into a folder that she carefully deposited onto Emma’s haphazardly discard pile. “You’re right. We’re not getting anywhere,”

“Hey, at least we found some info on the town,” Emma said, pointing to the tiny stack of maps and town surveys. Regina couldn’t help but notice how it was dwarfed in comparison to the small mountain of useless papers they had sifted through. 

“Ever the optimist,” Regina said, pulling herself to her feet and dutifully brushing any dirt from her skirt. 

“Let's get outta here. This place is even more creepy at night,” Emma said, linking her arm with Regina’s and dragging her from the office, down the hall of closed offices and into the freezing night air. Regina shivered and felt Emma pull her closer, and leaning into her warmth Regina smiled like an idiot. 

“Where are we going?” 

“The apartment. Dad wanted to have a family meal. Give Henry some sense of normalcy, I guess.”

“I’m not sure I’ve got enough energy for that,” Regina sighed. It was always going to be hard to watch Henry struggle through the beginning of his teenage years. Being in literal hell did nothing for hormones, “I think I’ll just grab something from Granny’s and go through what we found.”

“Great, I’ll come with,” Emma agreed happily. 

“Emma, you don’t need to follow me around,” Regina said, not really trying to get the blonde to leave. She was grateful for the company, and every moment they could have together not talking about Killian-this or Robin-that was secretly precious to Regina.

“Regina, I really, really do not like the idea of you wandering around alone.”

“You’ve said. Oh, come on, Emma. We’ve been down here for weeks. What could possibly be a threat to me that hasn’t already presented itself

“I don’t know. Any enemies you want to let me in on?” Emma asked, and Regina looked at her with alarm. What did she know? 

“Emma, most of the people in this town have been terrified of me since I got my magic back. I’m not exactly helpless.”

“Look, Regina. I don’t doubt you can take care of yourself. This place freaks me out, and with Mom gone to be with Neal and Robin in the forest...I can’t help but worry that our dwindling numbers make us vulnerable,” Emma trailed off, and it was obvious she was edging around the subject. Mal’s warning had been nagging her since their arrival, and she couldn’t shake the growing feeling they were being watched. 

“Em-ma,” Regina drawled out her name slowly, “I am perfectly capable of - oh shit!”

“What?”

“I left the maps we found in my - the Mayor’s - office. I’ll be right back,” She turned back, heading back up the steps. 

“Regina - “

“Emma! Stop hovering, it’s fine. I’m fine. I’ll meet you at Granny’s, and for God's sake order me a drink,” She called from the door of City Hall, which she easily opened with her keys. Idiots didn’t even change the locks.

Her heels clicked down the long hallway, she strode to her office in the dark. She knew the building like the back of her hand, and didn’t bother with the lights. That was until she turned into her office and the constant sense of foreboding that came with this realm returned. She flicked her wrist and the lamp on her desk sprung to like, bathing the room in warm light and causing dramatic shadows across her walls, their sharp lines disappearing in the wallpapered forest. 

Forcing herself to relax, she sighed in relief at the empty room. Perhaps Emma was right, and the quicker she was back by her side the better. The feeling she was being watched had nagged at her from the second she stepped off the ferry. It came in waves of intensity but was always present. Emma helped and Regina’s fears were quieted with the thought that the blonde would be happily waiting for her in a booth at Granny’s, two glasses of wine on the way.

Until, for the second time that day, she heard footsteps in the hallway.

“Emma,” Regina sighed fondly, picking up their small stack of victories, “I said I don’t need your protection.”

“I wouldn’t have discounted the Saviour’s offer so quickly, Queen Regina,” A voice said from the shadows of the hall. She sprang to her feet, turning to face the darkened hallway, “I would say it’s a pleasure...”

“Do I know you?” 

Glinting in the lamplight she could make out a golden insignia blazoned onto a chest plate and a simple golden crown. An insignia she hadn’t seen since the enchanted forest - a guilted sun and rays exploding across crimson painted steel. 

“I thought I’d made a more lasting impression,” King Stephan leered, stepping into her office grinning like a lion, all teeth and no warmth. 

“You - “ Regina gasped. 

She hadn’t seen that face in years. Not since it was gloating over her, drooling on her face as her own husband held her in place. The cold vice of fear clamped itself over her throat and stopped any communication between her brain and her body. Taking advantage of her temporary lapse, Stephan lunged forward and grabbed her hand. 

“Get off of me,” she growled and snatched her hand back. 

“And where have I heard that before,” He boasted before easily taking her arm again, more forcefully and Regina hated the small whimper that slipped out.

“You sick bastard,” she tried to pull out of his grasp again, “What the hell do you want?”

“Just simple revenge, fair queen. Don’t think I don’t know that dragon bitch killed me on your order,” Stephan said, tightening his grip on her arm. Regina willed herself not to wince; She would not show weakness. 

“And you want what? An apology? Fat chance,” Regina spat in his face, “You deserved what you got.”

“Did I? Burned so slowly it took weeks for me to die? My daughter cursed to an infinite sleep and my wife mourning her loss in a cell in the dark fortress,” Stephan tugged on her arm and Regina was sure it was going to come out of its socket, “And since Maleficent is no longer gracing the Underworld with her occasional appearance and disappearing before she can pay for her crime, you are going to pay for each of them. I must admit, I’m thrilled. I so enjoyed your punishment last time.”

Swallowing her fear, she slipped on her mask, fire simmering at her fingertips, “You must be more of an idiot than I thought, coming here. If you think I won’t burn you to a crisp, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“I was hoping you were going to do that,” Stephan stepped sideways, easily dodging her attack and using his free hand to grab something from his pocket, “You’re fireballs have nothing on your friend’s dragon fire and can’t harm me. At least not anymore.” He growled as he fastened whatever was in his hand around her arm. 

“What the hell is this?” She demanded, the cold leather bracelet numbing her keen senses and she could no longer feel the roaring flame of magic in her chest. 

“A gift. From your dear husband. And now that his meddlesome daughter has gone back to Storybrooke, he wants to see you,” Stephan said, his hand a vice on her wrist, the leather catching her skin. 

“Then he’s even more of a coward than I remember. Hiding behind his good king disposition and magical bracelets,” she said, trying to pry the black leather from her wrist in what she knew would be a useless effort, “Where did he even get this? It was my mother’s.”

“Good Old Leo has his favour in with Hades. And Hades wants to make sure you have some time to catch up.“ He spoke with glee and the vengeful malice she saw on his face had Regina’s stomach churning like the ocean with fear, “Now, come along. Don’t make this worse for yourself.”

Glaring up at him through her tousled hair, she tried to pull back against his superior strength, thinking quickly. She let her knees give out, allowing her dead weight to drop to the floor and in his surprise, Stephan felt her wrist slip out of his pinching grasp.

Regina sprung into action, clambering quickly to her feet and swiftly kicking him in his gut below the end of his chest plate, the heel of her Louboutin boots pressing hard into the flesh beneath. 

“I am not the helpless young woman you took advantage of,” she said proudly at his cowering figure, she started to circle him, ready to break for the door, papers scattered and forgotten. 

“Helpless?” He coughed out as he righted himself, his crown having slid from his head and clattered to the marble floor, “You were an evil bitch then and evil bitch now.” 

He blocked her path and she dodged around the back of the couch which she pushed over in an attempt to barricade his path. Effortlessly he jumped over it and - damn it, I forgot he used to be a knight. Shoving her against the mantelpiece, his arm pressing in her neck, Regina gasped for air. Black spots filled her vision and she scrambled her hands over the hot grate of the fireplace. Reaching behind her, her hands made contact with cold porcelain, and she traced the shape of the greyhound sculpture. She brought it over her head and crashed it on his skull with a satisfying crunch. He stumbled back, blood running from a cut on his head and speaking red stains across her wallpaper. Trying to run again, she tried to shove past him.

But like Emma had said, this wasn’t her office here. And the furniture wasn’t in the right place. 

Her shin caught on a lamp that was meant to be on the other side of the room and she lost her balance. That split second was all it took for Stephan to push her and she tumbled backwards. The back of her legs made contact with the glass coffee table and she knew before she fell that she had lost. 

The smokey sheet of crystal cut glass exploded beneath her weight and the brass frame dug into her back. All went black. 


	5. Here is A Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took me so long, I've had a crazy week at work and it looks like this weekend is going to be just as mental. Ugh. 
> 
> So this Henry-centric chapter is a little different from the rest of the story: the fluff before the storm. Again I did not intend it to go on for as long as it did but there was nothing I was happy with cutting out. 
> 
> Actually though, the next two chapters get pretty dark, so enjoy the scrap of fluff while it lasts....
> 
> Sorry, I'm going to be evil and leave you dangling on that cliffhanger just a little longer.
> 
> The song inspiration for this chapter is Here is a Heart by Jenny Owen Youngs. 
> 
> Just going through the comments now and I'm beaming with joy! Thanks for reading and your support! Xx

Henry hadn’t actually been there. That seemed to be a recurring theme these days and he _hated_ it. He would come running into scenes of destruction or confusion having missed the event entirely. It was an unfortunate side effect of having two very protective mothers. Infuriatingly protective and very proactive in keeping him off the front line. 

So, no. He hadn’t actually been there to see Emma become the Dark One. He had missed the ultimate visual of devotion and protection. If he had been there, he reasoned with himself, perhaps he would have figured it all out a little sooner. Perhaps he would have been able to engineer their feelings and actions towards a more suitable ‘Happy Ending.’ Perhaps he would have had the inspiration to look a little more closely at the narrative that was developing around him. It was, after all, his understanding of the great love story between Snow and Charming that had started it all and brought Emma to Storybrooke in the first place. Surely, if he had been allowed to bare a little more witness to catalytic events, he’d have come to the correct conclusion a little faster. Which was his going excuse for why he had missed what was now oh-so-obvious. His mothers were in love. 

But, as he had already established, he hadn’t been there.

He had, however, been there for the aftermath. Not the immediate aftermath, which was contorted by adrenaline and he spent most of it listening to insults flying between his mother and the pirate and trying to piece together what had actually happened. He wouldn’t be grasping for scraps of information if he had actually been there. But, now that he was speculating the possibility of his mothers' feelings, he thought perhaps that wasn’t the aftermath he should have been paying attention to. It was the aftermath’s aftermath. 

Of all people, Snow had been the one to call it a night. She said that they wouldn’t get any closer to finding Emma if they were all exhausted, and they would start again in the morning when everything would seem a little bit brighter. No one believed that, but everyone seemed grateful for the permission to take a temporary reprieve from the night's events.

Everyone except Regina.

“What? You can’t be serious, we have to keep trying!”

“Regina,” Snow sounded exhausted, “We’re going to, but you said yourself - she’s not in this realm. That’s not a problem we’re going to be able to solve tonight. We will see if Zelena can summon the portal, but then what? We arrive tired and exhausted? Go home.”

Henry knew the scowl that was slowly settling over his mother’s face as Mary Margret’s words continued to resonate truth. 

“I have to find her!”

“And you will,” Snow said, grabbing her upper arms and squeezing gently, “I have no doubt that you will. But you’re no help like this.”

Regina looked like she wanted to fight back, the forging of steel in her eyes that meant she was about to dig her heels in. Lifting a finger and opening her mouth to inevitably spout all the reasons why they should work through the night, her quaking hand stopped the argument in her throat. His Mom's hands rarely shook - she was too confident for such displays of weakness. On the rare occasion she did find her palms sweaty and fingers shaking, it usually alarmed her as much as everyone else.

And suddenly she looked so, so tired. 

“Okay,” she whispered, shoulders sagging and the fight in her eyes deflating, “Okay.”

Robin had insisted on going back to Mifflin street with the pair, but his insistence had nothing on Regina’s stubbornness and she was putting up walls against him. Impenetrable walls to someone as weak-willed as the thief. So they made their way up the front steps alone, the only sign that something was wrong was the fierce grip Regina kept on her son’s shoulder as if he too might slip from her grasp.

“Bed, Henry. You heard your grandmother, we will need our strength tomorrow,” She pulled him into a tight hug and sniffled into his shoulder.

“Mom? Are you okay?” he felt her shake her head in his embrace. 

“I felt that cold grasp, Henry,” She quivered and shook, her voice meek, “I felt it like ice in my heart, fear and hatred in my soul. And it didn’t even take me. Emma - I know she’s not okay. And it’s my fault.”

“How is it your fault? Why is Hook so angry at you? What exactly happened?” He insisted. 

But she only shut her eyes and turned away, fresh tears spilling out and a soft whimper escaping from where she had firmly clamped her hand over her mouth. It hurt Henry’s heart to see Regina like this, it reminded him too sharply of when he’d been the cause of similar agony. So when she shooed him off to bed, he obeyed with no argument. 

Cursing his situation as he turned his back on his crying mother, he thought if only he’d seen it happen, he would be of more help. If only he’d heard the deafening rush of swirling dark magic and seen the look in both his parents' eyes. If only he’d heard the shouts of, “ _What’s it doing?_ ”, “W _hat darkness does, it’s snuffing out the light,_ ” and, “ _Emma, No_!” and, most importantly, “ _You’ve worked too hard to have your happiness destroyed_.”

But what he did hear, as he slowly ascended the stairs, was a harsh, heart-wrenching sob and the chinking of glass as the mirror in the hallway fractured and fell to the floor.   
  
\--

**CAMELOT**

“Mom, don’t be so nervous. This is a good idea,” Henry encouraged as Regina hesitated before the great tall doors, flickering torchlight did little to hide her worried expression. 

“I don’t want her to feel like I’m forcing her to be around us,” Regina muttered, fingers tightening over ornate handles as Henry went to push open the doors to Emma’s sleeping quarters. The sound of the heavy iron latch that echoed down the hall of Camelot’s castle was enough to alert the room’s inhabitant to their presence, though she made no move to acknowledge them.

“Ma?” Henry went in first, placing an encouraging hand on Regina’s forearm and bringing her into the room. Emma was sat before a small fire one the cold stone floor. She hadn’t shown up at dinner for the third day in a row, taking her evenings to herself and slowly but surely drawing away from her family. 

“I uh - I had the kitchens make you this,” Regina offered the tray, taking in the circular frame and knotted string in Emma’s hands and she held back a frown. “You may have eaten like a child, but I’ll take that over you not eating at all.”

“Dark One’s don’t need to eat. Or sleep,” Emma spoke, not looking up from her dreamcatcher. Painted red lips couldn’t resist any longer and died into a sulk and a little crease appeared between dark eyebrows. 

“That may be the case. But I know Emma Swan and Emma Swan needs to eat. At least once every three hours,” Regina said, putting the ornate wooden tray on the ground before the white-cloaked figure. Behind her, Henry retrieved the two largest cushions from the couch, setting one either side of Emma and they made themselves comfortable in her space.

“Regina Mills, are you suggesting I comfort eat?”

“Considering how much comfort you take in a food, I’m willing to take the punt,” Regina smiled, it was a little sad but it was a smile none the less. Emma finally looked up from her lap to the tray before her and gasped slightly. The long line of Dark Ones whispering in her head couldn’t keep the warmth in her chest from spreading into a genuine smile at what she saw sitting in front of her. Stacked high in a tower of carbs and grease was a pile of what was unmistakably - although slightly botched by Camelot’s limited food stock - a grilled cheese. 

“Besides,” Regina continued, beaming at the look of happiness on the blonde's face and settling on the cushion next to her, “It would be irresponsible to let our son eat all of those monstrosities on his own. So I’m afraid, Dark One or not, you will have to have dinner with us.”

Once the aroma reached her nose Emma didn’t have to be told twice, reaching to grab the top sandwich and taking a bite before letting out a contented sigh. No, she wasn’t hungry, but the taste of food was a simple joy she had been unnecessarily depriving herself of. Regina was right, she needed the comfort. 

“‘S Good, thank you," she said through crumbs and gooey cheese.

"Don't speak with your mouth full, dear," Regina chided lightly, reaching out to swipe a crumb from the side of her mouth with her thumb, "Though it is good to see you smile, so I'll allow it."

Henry was too occupied with his own sandwich to see how mahogany eyes melted with affection and love. He was too busy chewing and relishing in the taste of home to notice how the blonde leaned into the gentle touch, or how her body leaded forward following the retracted hand. The small smile of victory that crossed the brunette's face and how Emma’s gaze greedily took in Regina in that red dress cast in firelight also went unnoticed. 

“Come on, there’s plenty for you too,” Emma said, once she had swallowed her food along with the lump in her throat. 

“Considering you and our son’s appetite, I think perhaps I didn’t ask them to make enough," she chuckled. 

“Try it. Maybe you’ll like it better since this poor kingdom is cursed with no processed cheese,” Emma said, holding out her sandwich. 

“That’s no curse,” Regina said back, but reached out and to take the offending sandwich. 

In a burst of bravery, she paused before covering Emma’s hands with hers and bringing the food and Emma’s arms towards her as she took a bite. Their eyes met over the achingly intimate gesture before she let her fingertips ghost over the tops of Emma’s hands before disappearing. Chewing slowly, Regina picked nonexistent crumbs from the red velvet that covered her lap, smiling through her working jaw.

“Better. Not great, but better.”

“Someday,” Emma said, green eyes and wide pupils twinkling with mischief, “I’m going to find a grilled cheese you like. Then where will you be, Madame Mayor?”

\--

**PRESENT**

Much to her chagrin, the extra sleep had made a difference and the afternoon had been one of her most productive all week. She’d even managed to come up with a solution to Leroy’s planning disaster that even the dwarf couldn’t be grumpy about. And to make the day even better, Henry had texted her after school, asking if she was feeling better and saying he was grabbing a coffee - not that Regina approved of his increased caffeine intake - and if she wanted one, she should join him.

_You know I don’t like you drinking that stuff._ She had texted back, E _specially considering the ungodly amount of sugar you insist on adding._

_Do you want to spend time with your son or not?_

_I’ll be there in ten._

She was in such a good mood that she hardly objected when Granny added almost twice the amount of whipped cream and caramel drizzle to the top of Henry’s frozen coffee concoction. 

Clutching the paper cup, they took their time making their way back to the Mayor’s office. Blue sky was enticing in its balmy embrace and as the final days of summer flew by and she knew it would soon be replaced by months of perpetual grey. So she had better make the most of it. Even if she had turned down Henry’s offer to swing by the sheriff’s station to collect Emma and go for a walk in the park, she could excuse lingering on the street longer than necessary.

“Come on, _please_.”

“I don’t think I could reasonably get away with coming into work late and then lounging half the day on a park bench,” Regina said fondly, straightening his hair where the summer breeze had shifted it out of place.

“Like anyone would challenge you,” Henry said, rolling his eyes. 

“That’s not the point, young man. I have responsibilities to this town that people expect me to fulfil,” She said, and Henry didn’t miss how she glowed with pride. It was no great secret she had worked hard to earn the respect of her people and to do so not through fear and intimidation, but by integrity and selflessness. He had caught her more than once tearing up by at the golden typography on her door that read ‘Regina Mills - Queen.’

“Besides,” Regina continued, “Emma’s not at the station. She called in today and is having magic lessons with Mal as we speak. So your plan to keep me from doing my job has been foiled.”

“So, what I'm hearing is you would have said yes and it would have worked if Emma was free?” Henry prodded, and enjoyed how Regina’s face stuck.

“What? I didn’t say that,” She deflected, sipping her coffee and not meeting his gaze

“Uh-huh,” Henry teased, before taking another large sip of his coffee. Beside him, Regina frowned in bafflement at her son's implications, “So what kind of magic? Is Ma going to learn how to turn into a dragon?”

Regina laughed at that, “As entertaining as that would be, no. One can’t learn how to turn into a dragon. It’s genetic, dear.”

“So what are they learning?”

“I have no idea, neither of them were very forthcoming.”

“And you’re okay with that,” Henry asked, incredulously. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He shrugged, testing how far he could push his luck, “I don’t know. She could be taking Emma into the woods to fight over who all the gooey looks you give each other. You haven’t told me about what’s going on between you and Maleficent. So how am I meant to know if you are actually interested in a relationship or if you’re just in it for the sex - “

“Henry Daniel Mills!” There was his answer, that was how far he could push it.

“Oh come on, I’m not ten. And you’re my Mom, I should get to know what’s going on in your life - up to a certain extent,” He said, smile slipping slightly as he shuddered to make a face of disgust, “There are some things I most definitely do _not_ want to hear about.”

“Henry, Mal and I are old friends - Hold on, go back,” She said, stopping in the street, “You think Emma and I do what?”

“What?” Henry said, smirking into his drink.

“Henry, do not make me full-name you twice in one minute. You don't want that. What did you say?”

“I don’t know,” He said ignoring the stern looks he was getting, looks that would have had almost anyone else in Storybrooke running for the hills.

“I do not give _gooey_ looks,” She said, huffing.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself, Mom,” Henry smiled. He was going to get in so much trouble for this, “Grandma thinks so too.”

“What?!” Regina almost shrieked, turning quickly and almost spilling her coffee. 

“Grandma. She thinks you are in love.”

“Heaven help me, I knew she was up to no good,” Regina glowered under her breath. Mortified. She was mortified. 

“So are you?” Henry asked again.

“Oh, what I wouldn’t give for another Dark Curse,” Regina sighed exasperatedly to the summer sky. What had she done to deserve this? She had been careful with her ‘gooey looks,’ hadn’t she? Apparently not careful enough, if Snow White was able to figure it out. 

“Go ahead. You and Emma would only break it with True Loves kiss,” he said simply. 

“Henry, that is way out of line,” she tried to sound threatening but was too anxious to really pull it off.

“Just tell me I’m wrong.”

“Well, - I - You - She and I - “ it wasn’t often the eloquent Queen was rendered stuttering and speechless. Satisfied with that answer, and realising her wasn’t going to get anything else out of her, he nodded.

“Alright, so now that’s sorted, is now a good time to tell you I’ve got a date with Violet tonight?”

Regina opened her mouth to respond, ready to tell Henry that they were not finished having this conversation and that she hadn’t done a good enough job of convincing her son that there was nothing between her and Emma, but a movement out of the corner of her eyes drew her away. A flash of red caught her attention as they came to the junction and her protective mother instincts put her between the blur and her son. The figure’s eyes widened in recognition and attempted to skid to halt. The inevitable collision was not as disastrous as she had been anticipating, the only casualties were the few drops of coffee that sloshed out the lid of her to-go cup. 

“I’m so sorry, Mayor Mills! I was just - ” it came out as a frantic pant beneath the red hood, before she caught sight of the teenage boy. Beaming in excitement, the woman removed her hood, “Hi, Henry! I can’t believe how much you’ve grown!” 

“Ruby?!” The Mayor and her son asked, as shocked to see the woman as she was to see them. What was more alarming was that she was wrapped tightly in a thick cloak, similar to her trademark cape but this one was line with heavy fur. Heavy fur that still carried clumps of rapidly melting snow. The snow that certainly had no place in this warm weather. 

“When did you get here? _How_ did you get here?”

“I don’t know! I - hang on! This is perfect!” The younger woman bounded up to her, full of energy. She was panting, having been rushing through the streets of Storybrooke at “You can help!”

“Help with what? What are you doing here?” Regina asked again.

"You have magic. You can help me get back. "

“Get back? Wait a minute, aren’t you meant to be in Oz?” Henry asked, regarding the werewolf with the same confusion as his mother.

“That’s the thing, I was in Oz. Up until about two minutes ago,” Ruby said, unbuttoning her cloak, opting to carry it rather than melt in the heat of afternoon sun.

“And you weren’t trying to get back to Storybrooke?” Regina asked. 

“Nope,” She said, popping the ‘p’, and shrugging. Regina couldn’t help but note that Red had barely changed in the years it had been since she’d last seen her, still bubbly and happy-go-lucky. “I was just walking through Emerald City, looking for a birthday present for Dorothy and thinking that I needed to find a place to get out of the weather. I remember slipping into a stupid sleet puddle, and I looked down, but instead of snow and yellow brick, I saw concrete. Then I looked up and I was at the town line with no idea how I got here. And it can’t be another memory curse, because I was still covered in snow and my leg’s still wet from the sleet.”

Regina raised her eyebrows, in disbelief, “You were just...walking? Nothing else. You’re sure?”

“One hundred percent,” Ruby said, standing akimbo and radiating sass.

“And there was no portal? No door? No nothing?” Regina grilled, clearly not convinced.

“I’m not an idiot, you know. I would have noticed the inevitable swirling vortex that comes with realm crossing travel,” Ruby bit back.

“Right,” Regina said, considering her options, “Well, I guess all that we can do is try and get you back. You said you came through at the town line? We should start there.”

“We're going to Oz? Cool,” Henry said, finishing the last of his frozen caramel coffee and grinning with excitement. It had been too long since their last adventure, and someone crashing into town with no idea how they got there was a familiar enough start.

“We are not going to Oz,” Regina said firmly, “I am, however, going to the town line to check it out. You take Ruby back to the house, and I’ll meet you there.”

Her investigation hadn’t taken long, Henry and Ruby had only just sat down when she materialised outside. When she entered the house, she looked deflated. Her good mood having fluttered away with the warmth of the afternoon and the dropping temperature brought the strain back in her eyes. 

Which was how Henry found himself in the last place he wanted to be: outside Emma and Hook’s house. 

The peeling blue paint and a creaking porch that held the faint aroma of the early stages of rotting wood couldn’t make Henry feel less at home. Considering the buildings rapid decay, it was obvious that Emma couldn’t care less about the hollow walls. It wasn’t that Emma wasn’t a house proud person. Henry had held the ladder when she had cleared the leaves out of his Mom’s gutters last fall and helped when she had painstakingly repainted and repaired the black storm windows on the Mansion’s front after a particularly nasty storm. 

_“Are you sure it’s straight? Regina will kill me if they’re crooked, and I don’t want to be the one to tell her it’s your fault.”_

_“I said it’s straight! Like ten times, just attach the hinge before we both freeze to death!” Henry had shouted back from the street. He couldn’t believe he had been dragged away from his game for this._

_“You’re sure - “_

_“Oh my god! Why don’t you just magic it on?” Henry had regretted his outburst of teenage irritation immediately because Emma looked sheepish and embarrassed._

Then, Henry had thought nothing of it. But now that he was delving into his parents’ complicated relationship - a relationship he hadn’t realised was as complicated as it was until yesterday - he thought he understood why the simple act had meant so much to Emma. Magic repairs were easy and perhaps it was that she wanted to put in the effort for Regina. 

An effort she clearly had no interest in extending to her own property. 

Crinkling his nose against the smell of mildew and damp, he knocked on the door and waited for the sound of footsteps. 

“Henry?” Emma was shocked to see him. He hadn’t spent much time in this house, and it had been a couple of months since he had last shown up on its stoop, “Come in. What are you doing here?”

Two years on and it was still sparsely furnished, shelves were empty and collecting dust and the long walls were devoid of any art or family pictures. What little furniture there was, was disorganised and looked like it had been just haphazardly placed in the most convenient spot and not moved since. A far cry from Regina’s beautifully curated living space. A thick layer of dust covered the sofa and coffee table, where a vase of wilted and rotted flowers that Henry was sure had been here the last time he had visited, that it picked up and swirled through the air when the front door was opened. Coat pegs protruded empty and unused and only one pair of shoes, the boots Emma was wearing earlier, were sat on the front step. It was more of a mausoleum than his other Mom’s vault, which was _literally_ a mausoleum. 

Molecules of air that hung in the heavy around them were weighted with a frantic tension, all oxygen having been sucked from the already stifling atmosphere. 

_They must have had another fight_ , Henry thought to himself as he followed the blonde to the kitchen. She looked just as deflated as Regina. 

“Are you ever going to decorate?” He asked, unashamed and bold in a way that only children could get away with.

“I have decorated,” Emma said, defensively, though it sounded hollow, and when Henry gestured in a broad sweeping gesture to the blank walls, she had no response. 

“I thought you were coming home,” He said.

“I needed some time, kid,” Emma said. It wasn’t a lie, today had been draining to say the least. Mal, whose magical endurance had been trained for centuries, had expected the Saviour to keep up and the effort had exhausted her. Not that they’d accomplished much, and by the end of stripping Emma’s magic bare (and by proxy, exposing a lot of Emma herself) they were left with no answers. 

The haunted look in the dragon’s eyes towards the end of their session had stuck with the blonde. Tapping into her magic, meant tapping into her emotions and revisiting her greatest moments of weakness and her greatest moments of strength. Just how much of it Mal was able to witness varied, and Emma was grateful for her last shred of privacy. But when they crossed into the territory that was defined by her sacrificing her soul to save Regina, and she was forced to relive the terror of seeing the brunette engulfed in the darkest of darkness, the guarded look Mal had always given her turned into one of complete understanding. And Emma felt a little nauseous at the exposure that came with complete understanding, and the looks of sympathy she received did little to ease her discomfort.

“Does your mother know you’re here? Did she send you to check up on me?“

“Mom thinks I’m out with Violet,” Henry answered.

“Oh, so now you’re lying to your parents?” Emma challenged, hands on her hips.

“It’s not technically a lie,” Henry clarified, looking amused, “I am going out with Violet. Just not until six.”

“Oh - ho, so it’s date night,” Emma prodded. No matter how tired she was, it was her civic duty as one of Henry’s moms to embarrass him every once in a while.

“It is and - Is that Gordon Ramsey?” Henry asked, looking at the frozen image on Emma’s iPad. In his initial discomfort of being in this House, he had missed that the kitchen behind her looked like a twister had torn through it, “Are you...cooking?”

“Hey, don’t sound so surprised! I can cook!”

Henry gave her a knowing look, one that reminded her of Regina, all quirked eyebrows and wide eyes, “You make great pancakes...but that’s not quite on Gordon Ramsey’s level.”

He made his way over to iPad, tapping impatiently on the screen and reading the description underneath the Food Network logo. He read the recipe title and could feel the corners of his mouth pulling upwards. Looking between the recipe, he looked at his mother who was trying her best to look uninterested and brushing crumbs from her top to the messy counters and back to the recipe until, finally, back to Emma. 

“Oh my god.”

“What?” Emma asked, not quite meeting his eyes. 

“Seriously? Could you be any more obvious?”

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? I don’t like that grin...”

“Don’t you understand? This is perfect!” Henry said, sitting down on the nearest chair and leaning across the kitchen table, like he was creating the most masterful plan of all time, “It’s date night for me, and it should be date night for you!”

Emma deflated, shoulders sinking and frown pulling harder at the already twisted lips, “Kid, I really don’t think I can face Killian again today. I have no idea where he is, and when he left...it wasn’t on great terms.”

“I don’t mean Hook. I mean Mom!”

Emma just gaped at him. She clearly had not been expecting that, and that was two for two of his parents he’d rendered speechless today. _All in a day's work._

“Come on, I’m not an idiot. I know this recipe is for her,” Henry said, pointing to where Gordon Ramsey was frozen holding up a cast iron pan, “She was upset when I left, and I think you could go cheer her up. And you know what else I think?”

“You’re going to tell me anyway, whether I ask or not,” Emma said, dropping into the chair opposite her excited son. 

“I think that Date Night with Mom is exactly what you need. I think you’re miserable in this awful house - “

“Hey!”

“Don’t pretend to be offended. You hate it. I hate it. I don’t know why you still have it.”

“Killian - “

“Haven’t seen him for weeks. And," Here it goes, he took a steadying breath. Of all the people who could get away with saying this, it was him - not Regina, not Mary Margret. It _had_ to be him, "And I’m not convinced he makes you happy.”

Emma narrowed her eyes at Henry, but he met her gaze, unwavering in his confidence. It was infuriating and he knew he had caught her.

“Have you been talking to Maleficent?” She finally asked, after spending several weighted moments struggling for words. That was not the response he expected. 

“What? No? I mean I saw her about an hour ago when she came by the house, but she didn’t say anything much,” Henry, watching his mother closely, didn’t miss the way Emma seemed to skulk even further in her seat, “But she left! So Mom’s alone. You wouldn’t want that, would you?” He received a glare for that. 

“Don’t taunt me Henry, this is hard enough,” she crossed her arms and her jumping leg was a telltale sign that she was ready to bolt away from this conversation.

“I’m not taunting you, I’m trying to help you!”

“Henry!” Emma snapped, “I don’t know what you’re trying to do...At least, I hope you’re not trying to do what I think you are. Things are complicated enough without you meddling - "

“Ah-ha!” He exclaimed, slapping the table in victory, “You admitted it!”

“I - wait, what?”

“You admitted it,” Henry repeated with a roll of his eyes. Were all adults always this slow on the uptake? “Things can’t be complicated if there aren’t ‘things’ to be complicated.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Emma said, throwing her hands in the air, “You know what I think? I think your author powers are going to your head. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I,” Henry challenged. Damn it, this was what she got for having a son that had been raised by two stubborn women.

"Okay, let say for a second - and this isn't me admitting to anything, but let's just say you're right," She held up her hand to stop Henry from inevitably interjecting with a victorious _'I KNEW IT!'_ He remained obediently silent, "I'm married, and Regina...She's with Mal."

“She said it wasn’t serious.”

“That may be the case, but marriage - that's about as serious as it gets,” Emma combatted. 

“Oh yeah?” Henry challenged, realising that talking back this much was bound to get him in trouble. Too bad he didn’t care, this was important enough to risk a few days of being grounded or the confiscation of his Xbox, “If it’s so serious, how come you don’t know where Hook is? If it’s so serious, how come you live with Mom and me?”

“I don’t live - “

“You do. How many pairs of jeans do you have here? And how many are in the closet in the guest room?”

“My wardrobe is none of your concern,” Emma deflected, “It’s not my fault your mom gets annoyed if I wear the same outfit three days in a row.”

“Uh-huh. Did you know there are more framed photos in the guest room alone than there are in this whole house?” Henry asked, and Emma sighed. 

She did, in fact, know that. 

When she had taken her phone to the printers she had been going to find something to fill her godforsaken empty walls. But every photo that earned a blue tick that meant she was willing to pay to get it professionally printed, had felt wrong on the hooks that littered her hall way. Smiling faces and happy memories didn’t deserve to have to endure the stifling atmosphere of this house twenty-four hours a day. She much preferred to think of the pictures of her family sitting happily dust free in the airy brightness of the Guest Room. 

Her eyes looked past Henry to the fridge, where the only photo she hadn’t wanted in intruding in Mifflin Street was stuck against the fridge with a plastic magnet. Their wedding photo. They were both smiling and if she squinted she could convince herself they were happy. Snow and Charming were beaming next to them, and Henry and Regina stood to their other side, smiling into the camera. But she had to squint really hard at the supposedly happily married couple to see anything that didn’t make her want to cry. And now it only brought back their earlier argument:

_“Killian it’s barely four,” she said, disgusted at the scent of rum and beer that fouled his breath ghosted over her face._

_“Well if you leave me alone all day, what do you expect me to do?” He said, hiccuping._

_“Why don’t you take your job back at the Sheriff’s station? Mulan has had to pick up twice as many shifts since you've gone, and I'm sure she would appreciate a little reprive," She suggested, “At least you were pretending to do something helpful before you got suspended!”_

_“I’m not sure saving the town on a daily basis is for me, love,” He swaggered into the house, chucking his empty flask onto the sofa where a cloud of dust rose upon impact, “Too many rules come with playing hero.”_

_“Playing hero?” Emma snarled, “You said, you promised me you wanted to change.”_

_“I did change, love. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt,” He said flippantly._

_“What?!” She glowered, voice and face pinching in anger, “What do you mean ‘been there, done that?’ It’s not like a stamp card that once it’s full you can do whatever you want. You have to keep at it!_

_“Listen, love, I did what I had to do,” He said, stumbling towards her and placing his hook under her chin, “And now I’m reaping the rewards.”_

_She had felt the building pressure beneath her skin, and it hurt to keep it at bay. Thankfully, she was drained from her exercises with Mal, that she was at no risk of accidentally setting the pirate on fire. Although how long she would be able to keep that particular impulse at bay remained to be seen._

_“Rewards?!” She’d shouted, “That’s what I am to you? A reward for doing good once or twice!”_

_“Calm down, love, that’s not a bad thing,” he boasted, “Now how about we stop all this shouting, and why don’t we get to that reward part.”_

_“No. I’m really not in the mood,” she stalked out of his grip, “I think you should go back to the docks and your rum. It’s more likely to keep you warm tonight than I am.”_

Shuddering at the memory she glowered as anger crept back into her mind. Her cooking attempts had been in an effort to calm herself down. Maleficent had warned about getting over-emotional until they were able to solve her magic problem, and cooking always seemed to be Regina’s way of sorting through her emotions. 

“Okay, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said date,” Henry crossed his arms and grumbled out an apology, mirroring his mother’s stance from across the table and misinterpreting her shift in demeanour, “But you should still go.”

“Henry...” 

“Regardless of whatever ‘things’ that are apparently too ‘complicated’ to discuss with your son,” he said, his teenage sarcasm coming through with his liberal use of air quotes, “You look miserable. And Mom looked miserable when I left - “

“She did?” Emma asked, head snapping up with worry.

“I think Maleficent...Mom asked her to stay, and she turned her down.”

“Maleficent did _what_?! After all her taunting and gloating and - ”

“Geeze, keep your shirt on," Henry said, before smirking, "Or don’t, I’m sure you’d both enjoy this more if you didn’t - “

“Henry!” He raised his open palms in apology, and Emma was glaring at him, “Hook gave up a lot for me I can’t just go on a date with Regina.”

“So you _do_ want to go on a date with Mom?”

“Will you stop twisting my words? It’s not that simple. I wish it was." 

“It’s about as plain and simple as it gets. You’re not happy alone here. She’s not happy alone there. So why don’t you just go and have a nice evening? No date. You just - no one can cheer her up like you.”

Mal’s words from earlier filled her head, ‘ _You hold a very special and completely irreplaceable part in her life. I think you have much more of a chance with her than you think.'_

Feeling guilty, she looked back up to her wedding photo. It wasn't exactly cheating, it's not like it was a real date. Straining her gaze, she squinted at the photo like she had a million times

But her ritual was interrupted, and her gaze was drawn to a corner of the photo she hadn't spent a lot of time looking at. And there it was. Like Henry had said, plain and simple. The look she had wanted so hard to see in Hook’s face was plain as day. Just not on his face, on Regina’s. She was looking over Henry’s head at Emma, and although her smile was sad, her eyes were full of love. Warm and soft, they were brimming with that fierce affection Mal had so casually mentioned earlier. She’d only recognized it for what it was because she’d seen a similar look on her face every time she looked at Henry (at least every time when he wasn’t being a little shit like he was now). But it was mixed with longing, and _that_ she spotted easily because she saw it in her own face every day. In all her searching for an excuse not to see it, it had been captured and framed and was staring her in the face from the one photo she thought was safe from Regina’s all-encompassing embrace on her life. 

Emma swallowed. Shit.

“Okay fine,” Emma agreed, eyes still glued to the photo, “I’ll go.”

“You will?” Henry sounded surprised, obviously thinking he had been losing this argument, “Oh. I mean, I knew you would.”

“But only to cheer her up. This is _not_ a date,” Emma insisted.

“Alright, whatever you say,” Henry stood, brushing his hands together in a motion that signified job well done, “And Ma?”

“Yes, my conniving, meddlesome son?” she said, fondly, as she started to pack up the ingredients strewn across her counter. 

“Bring the nice wine.”

\--

Regina was counting minutes again. The mansion, which had been full of activity and people this morning, sat cold and empty. Autumn chill was creeping into the evenings first, and Regina shivered as she moved around the empty house. Her good day, which she had been savouring, was quickly vanishing as the long empty halls of empty rooms became suffocating. 

_Don’t do this. Not today._

Bitterly betrayed by her own heart and mind, the usual distractions from loneliness and her arsenal of weapons against the memories had all been useless. A long, scorching shower had bored her. She usually was able to take herself into an almost meditative state by watching heavy droplets chasing streams down glass and tile, or at least the sting of boiling water would be enough to temporarily receive her mind. But tonight the water and steam had been suffocating and the condensation did nothing but slip down the smooth surface taking none of her torment with it.

Her second port of call, a glass of cider and a movie, did no better. Only five minutes in and shed turned the television off in agitation. Instead of being drawn into a fantasy story, the larger than life caricatures had irritated her, and their babbling didn’t drown out her own thoughts but just added to the cacophonous jumble. 

The evening had dragged on for what felt like an age and it wasn’t even seven. 

_Damn it, Mal, leaving me alone tonight_ , she thought bitterly.

_“You called?”_

_Maleficent appeared in the living room, charcoal smoke standing out amongst white and grey silk furniture and the heels of her boots and cuffs of her pantsuit tracking forest mulch into Regina’s clean living room. Henry and Ruby practically leapt out of their seats in alarm, and Regina hung up the phone pressed to her ear which stopped the ringing that was coming from Maleficent’s pocket._

_“Yes, and I expect you to pick up your phone. Not just arrive,” Regina said torn between annoyance and amusement._

_“Sorry, dear. I’m not a fan of technology and this is much easier,” she said, elegantly perching in an armchair, before turning to look at Ruby and Henry, “Although, I was unaware you had company.”_

_“Uhhhh,” Ruby said, eyes flicking between the Mayor and Maleficent, “I’m just going to make some hot cocoa. Henry?”_

_“Yep, right behind you,” He said, looking at Maleficent like he wanted to ask her a million questions and also like he didn’t want to hear any of the answers._

_“That was unnecessary,” Regina said, circling around to glance through the main hall and catch a glimpse of Henry and Ruby disappearing into the kitchen, “I was calling because of that disturbance of yours, not for - the other thing.”_

_“What about the disturbance?” She asked, slowly._

_“That woman over there,” Regina said gesturing to her kitchen, “was in Oz this morning. Ruby, somehow, quite literally walked into Storybrooke from another realm. Entirely on accident.”_

_“I will admit, that is unusual,” Mal uttered, before clicking her tongue to the roof of her mouth a few times as if tasting the air, “And I’m not picking up on any of the horrible residues that usually come with realm crossing magic.”_

_“Because there was no portal. Apparently.”_

_Mal hummed, “How curious.”_

_“So,” Regina drawled, apparently having to spell it out, “I thought maybe that whatever it is you think you’ve been sensing was acting up around three in the afternoon?”_

_Blue eyes snapped up to catch her gaze, and Regina knew she had touched on something. Which is probably why Mal’s response annoyed her so much, “Sorry, raven. As you know, I was with Emma around that time. I was preoccupied with helping her get her magic under control.”_

_“So you sensed nothing?” Regina asked disbelievingly, not able to shake the feeling she was being purposefully kept in the dark, “A werewolf wanders in from another realm and you, perhaps the most attuned and nuanced practicer of magic in the whole damn town, sensed nothing?”_

_Mal didn’t answer immediately, instead, she was intensely studying the Mayor and Regina had to stop herself from squirming under her gaze. Whatever Mal’s inner dialogue was, it must have had something to do with the way she was looking at her as if she had never seen her before. What was clear, however, was that whatever that thought process, she clearly was not inclined to share._

_“I’ll look into it,” she finally said, making a move to stand._

_“Wait, wait,” Regina pleaded, slightly shocked at the dragon witch’s abruptness “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come off so - “_

_“There’s nothing to apologise for,” Mal softened, and Regina sighed in relief._

_“You seem upset. Distant. Have I done something wrong?”_

_“No. It’s just been a long day,” and there was a new sadness in her voice that Regina was confident she’d never heard before._

_“Henry’s got a date tonight,” Regina said. Her son’s astute observations of her feelings for Emma had her on edge and she once again found herself searching for a distraction, “Which means the house is free.”_

_Taking the time to consider her offer was merely for show, and Regina knew the answer before it left her lips._

_“No, pet. I’m sorry, I’ve spent a little too much time in the Saviour’s head today. I need to spend some time in my own.”_

_It wasn’t really a very good excuse, as far as Regina was concerned. Searching for some lie or deception in the other woman’s face, and finding none, did little to soothe her irritation with being blown off. But in her search she did see exhaustion, and that the dragon sorceress was grappling with something. Something she obviously didn’t want to let Regina in on. So she had let it go._

  
And now, Regina Mills had the evening to herself. She was toying with the idea of either getting black-out drunk or going to her vault and taking a sleeping potion when she heard the lock turn in the door. 

“What the hell?” she muttered under her breath, begrudgingly pushing herself up from the warm spot on her sofa. She got up from the sofa in time to see Emma toeing her shoes amongst her’s and Henry’s while balancing a large bag and her iPad in her hands. Weighed down by carrying more than she was really capable of, in typical Emma fashion, she clumsily tried to rid herself of her jacket and Regina couldn’t help but watch the scene in quiet adoration.   
  
Emma quickly made herself at home in Regina’s kitchen, retrieving her ‘Dish Washer’ apron from the larder and rifling through her bags of ingredients. 

“Emma?” Regina said, leaning against the doorjamb, finally letting the intruder know she was being watched. Something was different about the blonde, some underlying confidence and determination, as she made her way through Regina’s kitchen.

“Regina! Hey, I wasn’t sure if you were here yet, the house was so dark,” Emma said.

"What are you doing here?"

“What does it look like I’m doing? Making you dinner.”

“Well, don’t strain yourself,” Regina joked, heart-clenching a little at the kind gesture. 

“Ha, ha, very funny. Now, if you’re done insulting me, there’s some wine in the bag.”

Finding it easily amongst the cheese and fresh bread, Regina ran her fingers over the gold netting on the bottle, circling the wax seal on its face, “You certainly didn’t get this from any grocery store in Storybrooke.”

“Well spotted, I actually brought that back from New York. One of the few things that got packed - I guess that shows my priorities. But that purchase must have been the result of a jumbled memory of yours because no way pre-curse me would have spent sixty dollars on a bottle of Bordeaux,” Emma explained, “Anyway, I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”

“And what is the occasion?”

Emma faltered, before looking a little sheepish, “Your son suggested you might need some cheering up.”

Regina felt the blood run from her face. Shit. A loose end she hadn’t tied up from this afternoon had been not dissuading Henry from his aggravatingly astute observations about her affections for the Saviour. Had he really gone and blabbed about it? 

“Henry?” She asked, ducking her head in embarrassment, “And just what exactly did he say?”

Emma blushed a little and started slicing the onions again with increased concentration. Oh no, this can’t be good, Regina thought.

“Not a lot,” Emma said after a pause, “Just that Mal had turned you down - “

“That eavesdropping little - ” Regina scowled.

“He did actually admit to the eavesdropping,” Emma laughed, “But I wasn’t exactly having the greatest evening ever. And he convinced me, in the spirit of Date Night, that instead of us moping around individually we could at least mope around together.”

“In the spirit of Date Night?” 

“Shit,” Emma muttered under her breath, “Yeah, it was some joke he kept making.”

Unease at how effortlessly her son had hit the nail on the head earlier, she decided she didn’t want to know what that joke was. It was likely made at her expense and probably a lot closer to the truth than she was comfortable with. Little did she know, the blonde, who had moved from slicing onions to slicing apples, was thinking the exact same thing about herself.

“You know,” Emma said, changing the subject, “When we went up to New York last, I checked on the apartment and my lease is still valid. Some non-existent, curse bank account is still paying the mortgage on that place.”

“Not so non-existent, dear,” Regina said, looking over the rim on her wine glass and sniffing the bouquet, “That would be my bank account.”

Emma stopped slicing onions, her jaw dropping slightly, “You? You paid for it?” 

“Well of, course,” Regina said, as if it was obvious, “Just because I sent you into the world with new memories, I had to make sure you were taken care of. And creating things like bank accounts and battling with bureaucracy takes time. So I just gave you mine. I didn’t exactly need my American Express in the Enchanted Forest, and god knows your credit score needs improving upon.”

“Oh my god, I...Regina, I don’t know what to say.”

“There’s nothing to say,” Regina said, indicating that this would be the end of this conversation, “I wanted what was best for Henry and - and what was best for you.” Where was this new found bravery coming from? Henry had egged her on a little too much this afternoon and now she was spilling her secrets to the object of her heart’s desire. 

“So why didn’t you send Robin and Marian there when they left town. It’s a much nicer apartment than Neil’s place, and Roland could have had Henry’s room?”

The honest answer to that question was that she didn’t want Robin and Marian living where Emma and Henry had lived. The idea of them taking down pictures of mother and son and replacing them with their own memories had made her feel sick. But if she told Emma that, she would likely be asked to explain why an empty apartment that was little more than a museum to a life that never was outweighed her ‘soulmate’s’ happiness and comfort. And those weren’t the types of questions she wanted to be answering. 

“I guess I forgot,” Regina lied, clearing her throat, and coming up behind Emma to look over her shoulder, “So, am I allowed to ask what you’re making?”

“Nope, it’s a surprise. Although I hope you’ve got left over’s in the fridge in case this all goes tits up,” Emma said from inside one of Regina’s cabinets as she searched for the right pan.

“I’m confident it will be delicious,” Regina soothed.

“Well, I’m glad one of us is!”

Against all odds, and how all the cards were stacked against her, not to mention her very rocky track record, Emma Swan had pulled it off. Regina sat next to her on the sofa, having opted for a more relaxed dining situation, and, to Emma’s delight, was making obscene noises of pleasure. 

“I told you one day I’d find one of these you’d like,” Emma said, amazed her voice was working at all considering the display she’d just witnessed. Her throat was dry and no amount of wine was able to fix it. She watched with wide eyes as Regina brought her hand to her mouth and sucked the last of the grease from her thumb, moaning. Any moisture that had clung to her tongue dried up and Emma had a good idea to where her body’s water supply was heading. 

“Well, Sheriff Swan,” Regina began in her most admiring voice, the voice that ignited the part of Emma that had a definite praise-kink (she was an orphan, this was hardly unexpected), “I must admit defeat. That was wonderful.”

Smug didn’t even begin to cover the look that split across Emma’s face. 

“Oh no,” Regina realised her mistake, “You’re going to lord this over me for weeks...”

“You bet, your majesty. In fact, I think we should switch aprons.” Emma said, untying the ‘Dish Washer’ apron and dropping it to the floor. Was it getting hot in here?

“Absolutely not. Careful with that ego dear, we still need you to be able to fit through the door.”

“Sending me away already?” Emma joked.

“Oh no, Emma. After tonight, I’d count yourself lucky if I ever let you out of my sight again,” Regina winked and Emma froze. Smiling to herself, the Mayor took another sip of wine, washing down the last of her glorious dinner. Her cheeks were warm with alcohol and the cool air blowing in from the open window. 

“Cold?” Emma asked, goosebumps prickling on her own skin at Regina's wink. Feeling emboldened, and living up to her legacy as the White Knight of this town, she stood to collect the softest of Regina’s mohair throws. She went to grab the other throw that sat folded next to Regina’s In the basket, the one she had always used when they sat opposite ends of the sofa, the only contact were Emma’s feet resting in Regina’s lap. But Emma didn’t want their usual arrangement tonight. One conversation with Henry and a little push from Mal and she was crossing lines all over the place. A part of her brain, probably the rational part that was ignored more often than not, was screaming that this was a bad idea. But Regina’s unguarded smile and the coercion of fine wine meant that any rational reasoning was firmly ignored. 

“Budge,” Emma ordered, draping the blanket over both their laps and having to sit closer to Regina that normal friendship would allow. Waiting for objection or rejection and receiving none, Emma relaxed, their sides pressing against each other. They’d never been this close for this long, and it was making her heady and her brain go fuzzy, so she missed the look of reverence and ardour that the brunette was giving her. It also meant that with so much of her brain was occupied by their closeness there was very little room for anything else - like house rules. 

“Hey, just because you wine-and-dined me doesn’t mean you can put your feet on my coffee table,” Regina shoved her lightly with her shoulder, the movement pulling at their shared throw, exposing Emma’s feet to the rapidly cooling air. 

“I knew you’d be a blanket hog,” Emma said back, instead of tugging the blanket just cuddled closer up to the brunette. 

“I’m older, I need it more,” Regina jested, not shoving her away and Emma took that as a good sign, 

“Oh yes of course, how could I forget? You must be what - pushing seventy?”

“Careful, Miss Swan,” Regina’s eyes darkened, and Emma was so enticed by their gaze that she couldn’t stop the words coming out her mouth. 

“Come here then, and I’ll keep you warm.”

Regina regarded her for a second, unsure as their banter became a little more serious. But, in the spirit of Date Night, and shocking them both, she leaned over, tucking her knees so they fell in Emma’s lap, and rested her head amongst golden curls on Emma’s shoulder. Instantly waves of peace and contentment rolled over her, and she suddenly felt very heavy and very tired. 

“Maleficent said you haven’t been sleeping,” Emma said, hoping her voice would distract from how her arm slipped down from Regina’s shoulder onto the warm soft fabric that covered her waist.

“Mmmm, that traitor,” she murmured, pressing closer to the blonde and bring up her hand up to rest on Emma’s other shoulder, “Don’t tell Mal any secrets. She’s too hot-headed to keep anything quiet for long.”

“Uh-oh,” Emma said, without really thinking about it. Not that she was worried, Mal had dutifully kept Regina’s secret from Emma herself and she was sure that after whatever they had gone through together this afternoon, she would keep hers too. Sleepily opening her eyes to look at Emma, Regina gave her a half-smile, exhaustion already pulling at her periphery, “Do you - uh - want to talk about them? The nightmares?”

Regina’s eyes were fully open now, regarding Emma’s open and caring expression through heavy lashes. Depth of understanding had never been an issue between the pair, and of all the people Regina would want to confide in, Emma was the one. But they didn’t mention the event, and that was entirely of her own orchestration. Her usual argument of how the Saviour was repulsed by her, or that she would pity her to such an extent that it would erode at her hard-earned respect, started to build her usual walls against the blondes questioning.

But this time was different. Her resolve faltered and, however brief the wobble and hesitation, it was enough for a different argument to form. If she was so repulsed, would she be holding her like this, like she was the only thing in the world that mattered? Would she be tracing soft patterns into the dip of her waist, or would her heart be beating wildly in her chest beneath Regina’s palm, like the hooves of a racehorse against soft grass?

Hope sparked in her heart and the construction works of her defences ground to a halt. And with it all complications faded - thoughts of Hook, of Mal, of Hell, of wild magic, fled her mind. 

“Maybe,” Regina let her eye’s shut again, and she nuzzled her cheek into the soft flannel of Emma’s shirt. It wasn't a no, and that was a step forward. “Just not right now. Mmmmm, too tired.”

Emma watched as Regina pressed her face into her side and sighed contentedly, and she hoped that her wildly beating heart wouldn’t keep her awake. The smell of freesia and patchouli was consuming, and Emma was acutely aware of every inch of warmth where Regina was pressed against her. The Saviour, the bold brave brash Saviour, looked nervous and against her better judgement and perception of the consequences, Regina wanted to alleviate any of her lingering worry and doubts. 

Mimicking her actions from that morning, she moved her hand from above Emma’s racing heart to cradle her face. Using the last bit of energy she had for the day, she craned her neck forward and pressed her lips to the Saviour’s cheek, barely brushing the corner of her mouth. Relishing in the surprised gasp, she held for a second longer than necessary before returning to her position at the saviour’s side. 

“Gina?” It was a plea more than anything, her voice coming out raw but gentle.

“Shh, I’m asleep,” She mumbled, digging her nose into the juncture of Emma’s neck and breathing in the smell of cinnamon. Obviously, she wasn’t quite asleep yet, but she was pushing boundaries and couldn’t deal with the questions that came with them. And if this was the only taste she ever got, she wanted to relax into Emma’s embrace without the distraction of the outside world encroaching on their fragile space. So, taking the cowards way out, she allowed her defences to crumble and her muscles lost their tension. Finally, she didn’t need to fake it and she drifted off into a peaceful sleep, safe in the Saviours embrace.

That was how he found them when Henry crept into the house an hour later. While his evening had been a great success, he was a little worried about how his mothers were faring. That was until he was greeted, not with chimes of welcome coming from the living room, but instead, with the sight of them asleep in each other’s arms. He knew True Love when he saw it. 

Resisting the urge to skip, he collected their dirty dishes and switched off the lights. 

“Emma, you smooth criminal,” he whispered to himself as he looked again at the iPad screen, still alight in the dark kitchen. Gordon Ramsey was paused at the end of the video, a smear of béchamel sauce and cheese on the screen obscuring his face as he smiled proudly over a poshly plated sandwich. Henry grinned again, bookmarking the tab so it was listed amongst to Emma’s favourites: 

Croque-Monsieur with French Onion and Apple Marmalade. 

\--

**PAST**

“Henry? What are you doing here?” Emma asked, distractedly looking out the window. 

She was fidgeting, obviously on edge. Two full glasses of wine sat untouched on the table before her. She had almost jumped to her feet when the door to Underworld Granny’s had opened, and Henry was trying really hard not be offended at the obvious disappointment that filled her face when he walked in. 

“Something is interfering with my writing,” he slumped into the seat next to her, chucking the infuriating utensil onto the table, “The pens stopped working.”

“I think you just need a break, he’s been at it all day trying to uncover Hades’s past,” David sighed as he took a seat opposite his skittish and agitated daughter.

“Interfering how?” Emma asked, eyes still focused out the window to the empty sidewalk, searching for movement.

“I’m not sure,” Henry said, rolling the pen in his hand, “Merlin mentioned that sometimes, when things that aren’t meant to be recorded, the pen would stop working. Maybe Hades is messing with my author powers?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Emma assured, though it was obvious she wasn’t really listening. Henry met David’s expression from across the table, and his Grandfather merely raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. They were silently debating between them who was going to be the one to ask what was wrong when one of the waitresses approached their table. 

“Hey, I’m really sorry, but the fryer is still acting up. It’ll be about another twenty minutes for those onion rings. That okay?”

“Sure that fine - Wait, _another_ twenty minutes. I've been here twenty minutes?!” Emma asked, unfocussed disinterest quickly morphing into frenetic energy. 

Obviously not expecting such a strong reaction from the blonde, the waitress took a step back, “Yeah, at least. I said when you got here we were having trouble - “

“Okay, that’s it!” Emma slammed her hands on the rattling table, causing wine to slosh over the rims of the glasses, and both David and Henry to jump in their seats, “I’m going back.”

And before grandson and grandfather could ask, she was out the door and running down the street. Dread that had been knocking patiently on the door in her mind had finally burst through. Concrete flew beneath her feet, and she left her companions struggling to match her pace in their confusion. She ignored their shouts of " _Slow Down!"_ and " _Ma?"_ Her gut, which had been twisting in apprehension all the time she had spent on the Mayor's floor, as if it knew something was coming, as alive with turmoil. 

“Emma!” David shouted, jogging out of the breakneck sprint that he had used to catch up to her determined pace, “What’s going on?”

“She should be back by now, there’s no way this grabbing one binder takes twenty minutes.”

“Who should be back by now?” He asked.

“Regina,” Emma said, glancing back to where Henry was jogging behind them, out of breath and grateful they were slowing down. 

“Mom was with you?" He panted out, "Where is she now?”

“I don’t know, kid,” she slowed as the arrived at the doors of Town Hall, “We were looking through her office for anything on Hades. We didn’t find any, but got found some info on this version of Storybrooke. She went back to grab it and didn’t come back.”

Pushing at the ornate mahogany door of Town Hall, it opened without restriction. David and Emma shared an anxious look, there was no way Regina would have left without locking the door.   
  
“Gina! Regina, answer me!” Emma shouted into the dark hallway and rushing off again.

Cursing his shorter legs, he ran behind them blindly through the dim until he collided with his mother’s back. She was frozen on the spot, stopping dead in her tracks in the threshold of his Mom’s office. 

“No,” she trembled. This wasn't happening. She shook her head as if to dislodge the mirage that was too shockingly real before her. 

“Henry, don’t look,” David warned, trying to pull him back into the hallway. But it was too late and he’d already caught a glimpse of what lay beyond. 

Blood was smeared in handprints on the clean white wallpaper, and the floor was carpeted with a weave of scattered paperwork, chunks of porcelain and shattered glass that crunched underfoot as they stepped into the chaos. Three pairs of wide eyes took in the flipped couch, the fallen lamp and demolished table. The white head of a sculpted greyhound was a macabre sight, jagged and coated in thick red blood, staring up from blank eyes in the centre of a dark stain that muddled the geometric pattern on the carpet. 

“What the hell happened here?” David spoke. But Emma didn’t answer, she hadn’t moved from the door where she was shaking on the spot.

“Ma?” Henry could hear how scared his voice sounded and he reached out the grab her hand. She squeezed back so hard that he thought he could hear his fingers crack in her grip. 

“I told her...I should have gone with,” She spoke low, her voice thick with anguish. Her expression was uncharacteristically blank, pale and her jaw was clenching, eyes wide swimming with fear, “Damn it, she’s so stubborn. How could she be so stupid?”

Henry had heard those words before. In the aftermath. Uttered with more annoyance, perhaps, but their meaning the same. Regina had asked the same question of the dark night sky when the Dark One dagger had glinted with its new carving of Emma Swan.

“Alright, take a deep breath,” David tried to soothe, though it was difficult considering what they were all-seeing, “We don’t know what happened yet. Regina may very well be okay. She might not have even been here.”

“She was here,” Emma said shakily, breaking away from her roots and finally crossing into the room, she crouched down to pick up a thin binder, that was poking out from under the arm of the tipped sofa, “This is what she came back for.”

“And what’s this?” Henry asked following her, mirroring her crouch to pick up something gold and glinting.

“A crown?” Emma asked, reaching to take it from her son. But David got there first, taking it into the lamplight. 

“I recognise this,” David said, studying it intently “Well sort of. It’s not exactly the same...but the sun is familiar...No I’m sure it’s the same.”

“Same as what?” Emma asked, desperately, “Dad, tell me.”

“I think this is Phillip’s,” He said, searching the inside of the rim for an inscription.

“As in Phillip and Aurora?” Henry asked, “But, he’s alive? I mean last I checked.”

“Yes, Phillip is alive. But the insignia was not always Phillips, it is that of the King. And before Phillip, that was Aurora’s father. King Stephan.”

“What?” Emma said, watching as her father’s jaw clenched and unclenched, a telltale sign that he was lost in thought.

“Well, King Stephan was dead by the time I stepped in to fill my brother’s shoes and Aurora was already under a sleeping curse. But there were rumours that he had been taken in the night by a dragon and his body was dropped from the sky a few weeks later.”

“Maleficent...” Emma muttered.

“She did have issues with that whole family, so it’s likely she’s the culprit. But that wasn’t what was surprising about the rumour. He apparently was on a diplomatic trip when he was killed,” David swallowed, “A diplomatic mission to the White Kingdom.”

Coincidences were rare, and there were a too many of them cropping up for this to be purely an incident of chance. Emma’s head was swimming with all this information, and the metallic smell of blood threatened to overwhelm her. Maleficent had warned her, and she had promised that nothing would happen. But she had been complacent, and now she was standing in the wreckage of what we definitely not nothing.

“It doesn’t matter why he was here, we need a way to find him. Gold! Gold will know!”

David shook his head, “He’s been missing for days. Belle said he struck a deal with Hades, I don’t think he’s going to be any help to us.”

“Fuck,” she swore, pulling her shaking hands through her hair. 

“What about a locater spell?” Henry asked, voice unsure. His stomach was tying itself in knots with every passing second spent in the destroyed office.

“I don’t have any of the ingredients. Regina did a stock check of her vault here and there’s not a lot there. It will take too long to try and find everything when we don’t know where to look.”

Henry frowned another dead end. There had to be some clues some way to find out. They could ask people on the street, but it was the dead of night and no one here should be readily trusted. If only his pen would start working again, then maybe he’d be able to tap into his Author capabilities and simply write what happened on the nearest scrap of paper...But the pen sat stubbornly dormant in his pocket, devoid of its magical hum. 

“Wait, that's it!” He said, “The nearest scrap of paper!”

“What?” Emma asked she was bouncing on the balls of her feet. Caught between trying to search the room for clues and not wanting to look. 

“You were looking through the files for information on what the town is like down here, right? So maybe there’s info on King Stephan somewhere in all this,” the hope faded quickly from his voice. There was paperwork strewn everywhere, an insurmountable amount of it.

Emma looked at it too, the same thought’s racing through her mind, “I’m not sure. It took Regina and I all day to get through this. It’s going to take a while and we could be too late.”

David sighed, coming up behind her and putting an encouraging hand on her shoulder, “It’s the best chance we have, Emma. We don’t have any other leads, and we still don’t really understand how this town operates. We have to try.”

“But - it could take ages. We don’t know what - “

“And we’re not going to find her by doing nothing, either,” David advised, his voice slow and sure grounding them all.

“Okay. Okay, but not here,” Emma said, looking back to the gloating head of the porcelain dog laying in its bed of blood. She shivered, her skin cold and blood running hot with anger. 

It took a long time to get all the files to the loft. Too long. Even with Emma's magic helping them along, it took too much precious time to even begin looking. She didn't trust herself not to accidentally transport it into the harbour, considering she was just one wrong step away from becoming a nervous wreck. All things considered, she was surprised that she had kept it together so well. It must be the adrenaline, she reasoned with herself, because once they were finally sat at the kitchen island, folders and binders split equally between them did her nerves start to get the better of her. Her fingers were shaking as she leafed through file after file, and the urge to vomit never faded. But her own discomfort didn't matter, she reminded herself, swallowing acidy bile that burned in her dry throat.

What matters was finding Regina. 

Henry was being more productive than she was, having breathed a sigh of relief to be free from the gruesome scene and jumping straight to work to help find his Mom. He was the first to start picking through the towers of folders and rationally sorting them into different categories. He was also the first to drift off against his will several hours later. Emma had taken her only break from the paperwork she had once again found herself buried in to tuck him in on the couch. 

“Emma, I think I’ve found something,” David said, finally. They’d been at it all night and the sun had long since risen and was shining its reddish glare into the apartment, turning the normally crisp white a sickly pink. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed, all the clocks were perpetually frozen, and it was driving Emma insane. Horrible statistics regarding missing persons that she had learned while she was a bonds-bail person would flash through her mind every time she was reminded she had no way of tracking how much time had passed. 

“An address?” She lept up from her seat, not caring that she bumped her fourth cup of coffee, sending splashes all over the table.

“Not quite, a photo,” he said, flipping the folder for her to see. There he was, the bearded man shying away from the camera infant of the painted black door and a bright sign. The low-quality photo ensured that any lettering on the sign disappeared into a white splurge, but the crown that glinted its refraction was a perfect match to the one that now sat on the kitchen island. 

“Hold on, that door. That’s not in real Storybrooke,” She said, pointing to the black door that was ajar behind Stephan, “I mean, that next to it is The Rabbit Hole. But there’s not a door there.”

David went back to one of their discard piles, “Hold on, I’ve got a list of approved businesses somewhere in here. Ah, here it is,” He said in victory, unfolding list of addresses, “So The Rabbit Hole is 56 Main Street and number 58 is - oh. Okay, yeah that is definitely not a Storybrooke business.”

“What?” Emma asked trying to snatch the list from her father’s grasp but he held it out of her grip. She didn’t like the concerned parent stare she was getting from him, it was a look that was normally worn by her mother not David, and it was rarely followed by good news, “Come on, we don’t have all day. What does it say?”

Looking reluctant he handed it over, and checking that Henry was still asleep on the couch before saying, “The Crowned Head: Kings’ Gentleman Club.”

Emma looked a little perturbed and not overly impressed, but couldn’t understand the creases that had formed on her father’s forehead. “Okay, so he’s a little seedy. So what?”

David sighed, shaking his head and closing his eyes, “Emma, look who owns it.”

Her eyes followed the dotted line to the far end of the page and felt her blood run cold as she read two words: Leopold White. Suddenly Mal’s cryptic warning was achingly obvious. “ _The one responsible for the creation of the Evil Queen_ ,” Mal had warned and Emma had been blind to who what was. Until now when the name was gloatingly printed in black and white before her eyes. 

Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. Her grandfather. Her fucking grandfather. Sympathy and perhaps a little more comprehension than she expected filled the grooves on David’s face, and Emma couldn’t just stand here. She threw the folder onto the table and grabbed her leather jacket from the back of her chair.

“Emma, wait -“ David followed her, grabbing her arm and holding her back. The look of aghast betrayal she gave him was enough for him to almost let her go, “I’m sorry but you can’t just go in guns blazing with no plan.”

“It’s been hours, dad. Hours,” she pleaded with him to understand.

“Regina wouldn’t want you rushing in, she can handle herself - “

“Really? Did I imagine the state of her office?” She snapped, pulling her arm out of his grip, “I’m going.”

“Okay, then I’m going with you,” he knew that determined stare, and knew nothing he said would stop his daughter, “Just let me grab my - “

‘No,” the blonde sighed, remember Mal’s reluctance to betray Regina’s trust. Whatever she was walking into, it was something she was sure the Queen wouldn’t want other’s involved in, “Henry. You need to stay with Henry.”

David looked like he wanted to argue, but one look to the teenager, whose face was still contorted with worry even in sleep and he sighed in resignation.

“Fine, I’ll watch him. Come back if you need back-up, and, Emma” she paused in the door, “Be careful”

Emma nodded, before storming out of the loft, muttering darkly, “It’s not me we have to worry about.”


	6. Bed of Bad Luck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W for Rape. It's pretty graphic and while the focus is the mental repercussions, I don't gloss over anything. At the beginning and at the end. Probably just best to skip the flashback to the past and the introspection section at the beginning if you're easily triggered. Don't worry about the plot, you'll get the gist. 
> 
> \--
> 
> SO SORRY this has taken me so long, my workload has just doubled and it is a struggle, let me tell you. Plus this chapter is pretty heavy so I could only work on it in short bursts. But thank you for all your lovely support, 
> 
> This chapter has been a TRIP, to say the least, and I'm really grateful for any feedback. It's pretty whiplash-y but that is entirely due to the fact that I am a slut for a bit of contrast. I'm also a slut for symbolism and a good, old fashioned motif - but you should probably know that by now! 
> 
> Anyway, the title of this chapter (and the song that plays at the end) is Bed of Bad Luck by Little Bandit.
> 
> It gives me Chills. Literal Chills. Give it a listen for the full cinematic experience.
> 
> Next chapter should be up much fast should life decide to drop another truckload of bullocks on me. Anyway, thanks for reading and hope you enjoy! Xx

The Queen’s quarters were tucked against the cliffside on the Northside of the palace. She would spend days confined to the wing in the future and come to realise that nine months of the year the room received no direct sunlight. That its tall stone walls that reached to a dome high above her head would trap any meagre heat she could create in the fireplace, keeping it firmly out of her reach as the slate floors absorbed any last traces of warmth. No matter what she did, no matter how many fires she burned in summer or how many duvets the maids piled on her bed, for years the room was synonymous with cold. An unshakeable cold that went bone-deep and clung beneath your skin no matter how many layers you wore (not that she was allowed many). An impenetrable cold that would leave her shivering on a summer’s morning while across the castle Snow White was smiling on her balcony into the sunny morning. 

Of course, she would realise all this in time and the cold would gnaw at her leaving her with anger as the only thing that would keep her warm. 

But on her first night in the queen’s quarters, she thought nothing of the shiver that ran through her when the handmaidens guided her through the door. She put the goosebumps and how the hair on her arms stood up straight down to nerves. The shocking touch of cold furniture as they set her down before her vanity was just because it had been a draining day and she was tired.

“We’ll put her in white. He will want her in white,” She heard one of the lady’s maids say to the other.

“Hair down but leave the jewellery on,” the other nodded in agreement.

The busied themselves around her, talking about her but never to her, voices never above a whisper. 

Obediently letting them unlace her corset, she took the time to take in the room that would soon become her cage. It was airy for a prison, and the furniture was ornate but not to her taste. Of course, the ornamental flowers and birds that tried to brighten the walls of her icy fortress were of Eva’s choosing. Perhaps a year later, when she would finally work up the courage to ask if she could change them, the King would retaliate and act insulted. The idea that it was insulting to her to live like a doll in a glass cabinet of someone else’s design didn't cross his mind. Because Eva, perfect Eva, would always be better than her in his eyes. 

Enormous was the most egregious insult of all. Lifesize and lifelike and hung high enough that her short frame couldn’t tear it down was a portrait. Smiling happy faces of a young girl, skin white as snow, and her radiant mother looked down at her. Their smiles were wide and Regina felt that they were laughing at her, jeering at her from their elevated mount on the wall. Was the air warmer up there than it was down on the floor? Their suede and fur cloaks looked like they were at least appropriately bundled against the chill.

Their mocking laughter was obscured from view as the white silk nightgown was pulled over her head. Its lace and flimsy fabric left her overly exposed to the cutting air. The maids seemed satisfied with their work, though how they could tell whether she looked appropriate or not with their eyes firmly trained to the ground, Regina didn't know. Although one wasn’t looking at the ground. One had broken the rules and was looking at her from beneath the brim of her black hood, and the look in her eyes stopped Regina’s mind in its tracks. For the first time since that morning, when she had pushed her mother through the Looking glass finally feeling free, did she realise just how caged she was. The sympathy on the young woman’s eyes - young, although still a few years senior to Regina’s scarce seventeen - was plain to see and the stubborn Queen finally let a little fear slip through her iron defences. 

“Eye’s down,” the older, sterner voice spoke from behind her. The young woman snapped her gaze back to the floor as the older maid guided Regina to the edge of the bed, pushing her to sit, “Wait here, child.”

“Wait, don’t go,” Regina begged, as they all filed out the servants' entrance to her room. The woman who showed her pity turned back after the others had left. Waiting for their footsteps to cease their echo through the walls, she scurried to the vanity and poured something from a crystal decanter into a dusty goblet. 

“To steady the nerves and numb the pain, your highness,” the servant gently pressed the glass of amber liquid into her hands, numb fingers closing around it. 

“Is it Magic? I don’t want - “

“It’s not magic, your majesty. Drink it. It will...” She trailed off, and Regina tried to get a better look at her face that was cast in shadow, “It will help.”

Regina sniffed at the sweet liquor as she watched the maid disappear into the wall, the latch of the hidden for closing behind her. Taking a tentative sip she recoiled from the harsh taste, she hated Cognac. Always too sweet it reminded her of drinking syrup. Depositing the glass on her bedside table, practically untouched, she barely had time to put it on a coaster when the doors flew open. Staggering in intoxication, wrinkly face red and blotchy, hungry eyes spotter her and she wanted to run. 

“Ah, there she is. My beautiful wife,” he boldly walked through her room, or the room of his ex-wife that she was currently occupying. He didn’t seem to take any notice of how she didn’t respond when he sat next to her, or how she shook her head when he pressed his dry lips to hers. 

“Now, now, dear, don’t be shy. I’m going to enjoy this,” He sat next to her and she jumped at the contact of his calloused hands over her shoulders. Not taking the time or care to ease her in, he turned her head and before she knew what was happening. 

“What are you doing?” She asked, even though she knew the answer.

“Taking what belongs to me,” he pressed his lips to hers and fumbled at her dress. It was nothing like being kissed by Daniel, who had always been gentle and attentive. Leathery hands that had begun to show spots of age greedily and uncaringly groped at her chest above the flimsy fabric. The lump in her throat jumped as she felt rough, uncaring hand shoved up her nightdress and grab at her centre. The urge to retch was back. 

“Mmmm,” he smirked against her mouth, “Wonderful. I had worried that with all that horseback riding you might not be so intact.”

“Wait, please. I don’t want - “

“It doesn’t matter what you want, girl,” pulled back, tearing at his rousers and shrugging off his robes. All she could do was look on, petrified and horror-stricken as he bore himself in front of her before climbing over her shaking form, “This is your duty as my wife. Your duty as my Queen. It is to please your husband. You do want to be Queen do you not?”

Regina opened her mouth to say that, no, she very much did not want to be Queen. Especially if it meant keeping his bed warm against her will. But it came out in a strangled cry of pain. 

As was the case with all seventeen-year-olds, Regina used to be curious about sex. She had more than once crept into her mother’s library, climbed on top of the furniture in a way most unladylike to reach for the novels that were hidden on the top shelf. There were no images of tears and blood, just loving smiles and looks of ecstasy. The woman who wrote them spoke of passion and love, of a soft sensuous stretch and sparks of luscious pleasure. 

Those women, she decided, were liars. Horrible liars. 

There was nothing pleasurable about the callous and sadistic pain that shot from between her legs. There was nothing soft and loving about how he made her feel like she was being torn in half. There was nothing passionate and tender about how her cries were ignored in favour of the King’s moans, drowning out her sobs with their noise. 

“Please,” she begged, tears falling from her eyes and into her hair, “Stop. Stop. It hurts - “

“Silence,” had said covering her mouth, and forcing his four fingers between her open lips, holding onto her jaw as his thumb pressed a bruise into the underside of her chin. Sour and bitter with filth, she gagged as their vile taste coated her tongue and she tried to bite down but his invasive grip on her jaw kept her from it. 

“Ah, ah, don’t bite,” he grunted out, and she felt the movement of him shifting his weight above her in a stabbing pain between her legs, “We will have to teach you to keep those sharp teeth hidden. Now behave, and I’ll make it nice for you.” 

She wanted to tell him that she couldn’t breathe. But the noise came out gargled and helpless and she hated it.

He pulled back and pressed back into her again, brutish and savage in his pace and she screamed against his hand. Her arm shot out, reaching for purchase on anything that could help her break free. Blindly, she searched with extended palms as the King continued to ignore her pain until she finally made contact with her bedside table. A particularly barbaric and esurient lunge from above her had her knocking the goblet of alcohol to the floor. 

Many years later, she knew that if she’d had the courage to face Archie, she would be given the exact explanation as to how she survived almost a decade of torment. Not that she would ever dream of telling the cricket of any such weakness. If it wasn’t for all the unbelievable complications that came with being from another realm, perhaps she could have crossed the town line and found a specialist in an exclusive New York practice. PTSD, Dissociative Disorder, RTS might have been some of the words she would have heard from her expensive phycologist. Which is likely why she never bothered to go. That and any sign of weakness was something that Regina shied away from. But maybe they would explain to her how her mind would train itself to slip away every time the King would pay her an evening visit. 

However, the kind of elaborate storytelling - the tight weave of fruitless fantasy she would make for herself took years of cultivation. A scenario to mask any type of violation: if they were in the King’s chambers, the knight would have to make their way through the halls of the castle and not scale its front because of the additional sentries. If the King had grown tired of holding her in place and had his guards bind her to the bed, the knight would have to carry a sword instead of a bow and arrow so they could cut her loose. But when the years started to pass and no one would burst through her doors and carry her to safety, the childhood fantasies faded. Each day her heart grew darker and her magic grew stronger she knew that no one was coming to save her. And each time her technicolour rescue dulled into flimsy wisps of hope that froze in the frigid air and fell and shattered on the icy floor. Until she was left with nowhere to hide, no world to escape to and she was present to witness every painful humiliating second. With no fantasy to blind her, she was faced with her surrounding and her eyes captured the mocking caricatures that hung directly in her line of sight, their eyes following her wherever in the room she moved. 

And the only perennial peace she found was the anger that burned hot in her chest, scorching her soul and charring her heart until it was as black and cold as her frozen stone cage. 

Tonight, however, as he set his merciless pace, she was conscious, painfully aware, for it all. Perhaps that was why the first night was the one that haunted her dreams with the most frequency, because of her very visceral and tangible experience. Untrained in dissociation and unprepared for the onslaught, she laid limp, feeling every movement, hearing every filthy word he whispered in her ear. Everything was so cold that when he spilt himself in her, it burned with unexpected heat. 

“Uh-uh,” He pushed her back down as she tried to escape when he relaxed, “We’re going to stay like this for just a while longer. I need another heir, and you are going to help me with that.”

Cold, empty and numb she felt gravity pulling her down into the mattress and she couldn’t move. Her limbs were like lead and even when he finally climbed off her and disappeared to his own chambers, grinning and satisfied, she remained motionless. Her breath came out in puffs of condensation, hot exhales turning to frozen fractals of ice instantly in the air. She watched as they danced above her and disappeared into the atmosphere. Maybe she would freeze to death and save herself from a lifetime of this torment. 

No such luck. The servants' door swung open and the maids returned. The candle at her nightstand was lit and she felt herself being pulled at once again. Feet hitting the frigid floor, the shivering intensified and she could hear her teeth chattering in her head. She didn’t notice that she was being guided to walk over the smashed glass, shards lodging themselves in the bare soles of her feet and cutting through the arched skin. 

“Strip the bed,” the stern voice ordered, and Regina watched on as her minions began to pull at the sheets that were rapidly cooling. 

“Wha- “ her voice almost failed, and she shivered rubbing her arms, “What are you doing?”

The kind handmaiden, who had allowed her eyes to meet the young queen’s again and show her the sympathy that must be hidden beneath all their hoods there, spoke quietly so the other’s wouldn’t hear her, “It’s the consummation sheets, your majesty. In case there is ever the need to prove the validity of your marriage.”

The validity of her marriage. She wished she could have laughed. Bright red that would soon fade to dull brown on white sheets was the signature on her marriage contract. 

Her breath was coming faster as she gulped for air, her skin prickling in cold sweat. She watched on as the white satin was pulled back to reveal the stain sinking into the horsehair mattress bellow. A stain she would have to sleep over for the rest of her life. She’d rather sleep on the frosty floor. Tears started to spill afresh and she leaned heavily on the wall for support. Her skin was damp and tingling with biting cold, and the room began to spin around her.

“Your majesty?” The handmaiden asked.

“I - I need to -“ She ran her hands through her hair, sleety and sweaty and the strands caught on her sticky fingers. Her stomach rolled again and this time she couldn’t hold back the crashing waves of nausea.

The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was her vomit hitting the severe stone, blurring out her bloodied footprints. Her last thought as the darkness gently pulled her under was that, when she woke up, she had to remember to pull the shards of glass from her feet. 

  
\--

**PRESENT**

Cold fronts moved in faster than warm ones. That was one of the few facts that Emma remembered from eighth-grade science, and in Maine, that was proved true more times than she could count. Despite the rapid drop in temperature, Emma was warm. Too warm, her sleep-addled brain warned. 

Piece by piece, she began to become aware of her surroundings: The pinch in her shoulders and ache in her back was due to the Venetian carved mahogany arm of the sofa. The tickle under her nose was due to flyaway strands of rich brown hair that filled her nostrils with the smell of freesia and shampoo. The burning in her palm was due to the hot and soft skin beneath her fingertips where her hand had slipped beneath silk pyjamas and was resting on someone’s back. The giddy irregularity of her heartbeat and the kindling arousal was due to the woman who was sleeping on top of her. A woman who smelled and felt a lot like - Regina. 

Green eye’s snapped open, last night seeping back into her memory and she finally grasped the situation at hand. Regina had fallen asleep on her lap, and Emma, emboldened by the wine and Henry’s encouragement, had let her. Regina had been so warm and sincere in her praise and Emma’s restraint crumbled like dry sand. 

_God, how could she be so stupid?_ That was her first coherent thought. 

Her second coherent thought was just as mortifying as the first and came as she lifted her arm to rub the pain from her neck and as met with clammy skin. She froze and crinkled her nose in distaste: after the long, exhausting, and strenuous day of exerting her magical ability to its limit and hiking through the woods. Her breath was heavy and fuzzy with wine, and the splatters of melted butter that spat at her when she had been cooking mixed together into a not-at-all-pleasant cocktail of smells. Of course, this would be when Regina chose to fall asleep on her. Last night she had been relaxed and unguarded and hadn’t minded, but now that her trusty walls were coming back up she felt the familiar feeling of insecurity. She needed a shower. 

Moving as gently as she could, the blonde began to carefully disentangle their legs in an attempt to slip out from underneath the sleeping woman without disturbing her. 

“Em-ma,” the woman in her arms mumbled into her neck, sacred and soft. It was enough for Emma to pause in her Houdini-worthy escape. The way Regina’s grip tightened in her slumber and the nuzzling of her face followed by a contented sigh was almost enough for Emma to throw caution out the window and stay put. But the rolling beneath her navel and the slide of something hot and wet between legs cut through her delighted haze and she knew she had to get out of here and quickly.

Now she _really_ needed a shower. A cold one. 

Perhaps not too cold, though, she thought as she finally made her get away and was left missing Regina’s warmth in the chilly morning air. Tepid water did little to settle her mind, but at least she felt cleaner when she made her way back down the stairs in a sweater and a pair of jeans. She had ignored Henry’s voice in her head when she was getting dressed:

_“How many pairs of jeans do you have here? And how many are in the closet in the guest room?”_

Cheeky kid, she thought fondly reading and crumpling up the post-it he'd left on her iPad.

Not that she was particular angry with him The evening had gone better than she could possibly imagine. Maybe Henry and Mal were right, maybe she should pack it all in with Hook and take a chance with the person she actually loved. If every evening could be like that, well - maybe that was her Happy Ending. And Regina hadn’t pushed her away and that ‘special affection,’ Mal had spoken about had been so on display that even Emma hadn’t missed it. Plus Henry seemed pretty confident that any endeavour she might want to make for Regina’s affection wouldn’t be fruitless, and he did know her better than anyone except maybe Emma herself. 

She plugged in her phone using the charger in the kitchen, tapping it impatiently as it rebooted. When it finally sprung to life, carefree musings of the possibility of being with Regina, of being happy, came crashing down. 

Six missed calls. All with an accompanying voicemail. All from Hook. Sighing heavily at her mess of a life, she pressed the play button and held the phone to her ear. 

_“Emma. Where the fuck are you? The kitchen is a mess. Are you out with the boy? When are you getting back? Call me back.”_

_“Swan, pick up your damn phone. I didn’t end my evening early to sit in this house alone all night. Come kiss and make-up. I want to apologise.”_

_“This is the last time you run off, you hear? You better not be at her house or I swear I’ll - “_

She cut him off, chucking her phone to counter in disgust, the bubble of joy decidedly burst. She resented him for that too. Couldn’t she have just one nice morning or waking up in Regina’s arms without the weight around her neck that was her loyalty to him pulling her down? Apparently not.

As if her thoughts reached the sleeping brunette, she hear a whimper come from the living room. Making her way quickly to the other room, she dropped next to sofa where Regina’s face was contorted in pain. She writhed in obvious distress, pulling at the throw and thrashing out her arms. 

“Regina?” She shook her lightly, sitting next to her curled up form before repeating, “Regina?”

“Please. Stop. Stop, It hurts - “ She whined, clenching her jaw so tightly that Emma was afraid her teeth might crack. 

“Regina. Wake up,” She shook her lightly, “Wake up, it's okay.”

Emma reached out to touch the tortured woman’s face, but realised a second too late her mistake. Eyes filled with panic and rage snapped open and Emma felt the grip of magic on her throat. Bolting up into a sitting position, Emma watched as Regina wildly took in her surroundings. She was wild with terror and distress and it took a few breathless seconds before whatever horror she was seeing faded and Regina was faced with her living room.

“Oh my god, Emma,” air flooded into her straining lungs as Regina dropped her arm, voice rife with apology and gaze filled with realization, “Emma, I’m so _so_ sorry. I didn’t know it was you. Are you hurt?”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Emma soothed, holding up her open palms. She wanted to reach out to comfort the brunette, but considering the extreme reaction, her physical comfort had caused before she kept her distance, “No harm done. I’m fine. Plus, I once punched a kid in my sleep when I was in a group home so maybe this is just long term Karma.”

Regina’s lips quirked at the obvious attempt to lighten the situation, but the sorrow that stuck stubbornly to her eyes was steadfast. Taking deep breath through her teeth, and running a hand through her hair she calmed slightly.

“Are you - um - are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Emma. Beyond being a bit embarrassed at nearly strangling you, I’m fine.”

Emma rubbed at her neck, but gave Regina the brightest smile she could, “I wasn’t joking about punching that kid. It happens. I know better than most what it feels like to wake up from a nightmare.”

“I really am sorry. Sometimes I just lose...” Regina trailed off, looking at her hands that lightly quaked in her lap. 

“Lose control?” Emma finished for her, “Yeah, that seems to be a common problem lately.” 

Regina eyed her warily, a question dancing on her tongue, but she shut her lips firmly against it. Instead, she asked, “What time is it?”

“Around six,” Emma said. Hating how uncharacteristically fragile the other woman looked, Emma took the risk of reaching out to pull Regina softly so she was leaning against her side. The brunette tensed briefly in the side embrace before giving over to a little relaxation, her hand’s stilling from their shaking.. “You slept through the night before - well - whatever that was. That’s an improvement.”

Regina looked up at her, raising an eyebrow and narrowing her eyes in suspicion. 

“Oh, uh, Mal said you never got more than an hour’s straight of sleep. And we were out before Henry got home.”

“Oh,” Regina said, not enjoying how smug she knew her son would have been coming home to see her asleep in Emma’s arms. She blushed at the memory and realised that she was growing very comfortable in Emma’s prolonged embrace. Small hugs and pats on the shoulders of the past six years were nothing compared to what was happening now.

They were heading towards the precipice. The edge of that cliff that Regina had both desperately wanted to jump off and had spent so much time keeping herself from its alluring boundary. 

“You know, that cheeky kid left me a note in the kitchen telling me off for not doing the dishes. Some son you’ve raised, Regina,” Emma said, tightening her grip on Regina and laughing lightly.

“Good,” Regina responded, smile twitching, “Finally some help with the impossible task of training you to be an actual adult. It is comforting to know he’s surpassed you.”

“Ha-ha, very funny. Nice to know that even if you’ve only been awake five minutes, you still attack me with your cruel words,” Emma feigned insult. 

“Hmmmmm, would you rather I used a fireball?”

Emma dropped her jaw in mock surprise, eyes alight with mirth as she slipped her hand under Regina’s arm to tickle at her waist causing her to squirm, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh yeah? Try me and find ou - “ she tried to threaten but was cut off by her own yawn. Stretching, she twisted in Emma’s embrace so she could lay her head in her lap, and look up at Emma properly.

“I’m just glad you got some actual sleep,” Emma reached out and tentatively traced underneath luminous brown eyes where the dark circles had faded slightly. Regina shivered at the gentle touch, and settled when the blonde’s fingers made their way into her hair. They really were in uncharted territory now. 

“Must have been the company,” she crooned, winking again and looking coyly up at the blonde. The risky flirting had been worth it to see the proud smile that the blonde tried to fight off. 

That wasn’t a lie, and Regina knew Emma must know that. Something familiar had infiltrated her sleep. Like a dream she could almost reach, warm and hazy and her mind welcomed the lengthy blankness that held off the onslaught of nightmares. But that warmth had vanished and she’d been back in that freezing chamber, lying helpless beneath Leopold once again. But she’d been shaken awake by her White Knight. After years of wishing someone would come blasting in and save her, Emma had done so twice now. Ignoring that time was ticking on, they allowed a few minutes of rare tranquillity, Emma’s hand growing more confident as she twirled chocolate locks through her fingers, revealing in how Regina’s hair was every bit as soft as she had imagined it would be. Tempting thoughts of making their coquettish arrangement, the one they had been keeping so precariously balanced, fall away and make it a reality. No more trying to pick up on hints, small symbols and gestures of concealed devotion. Just this. Only this.

“You’re thinking a little too loudly up there, Swan,” Regina mumbled.

“Just thinking about you, your majesty,” Regina blushed and averted her eyes, “Are you sure you’re okay. My offer still stands if you want to talk.”

“Not now, Emma.”

“You said that last night too...Still, I’d feel better if we could at least maybe - finally - speak about what happened. Am I right in assuming its the same thing that's been giving you nightmares?”

“Emma...” She warned.

“Regina - “

“I said I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“But - “

“No. I don’t intend to force some lachrymose tale on you, Miss Swan,” Regina said cooly, walls flying up. They were back to share one as Regina pulled her head out of Emma’s grasp, hair trailing through her fingers as she slipped away. This back and forth, playing chicken with the ocean of their relationship, was exhausting enough without added complications.

“Uh-uh, you don’t get to do that. Don’t Miss Swan me, not when it’s serious,” Emma insisted. 

“It’s not serious. I’m fine. Please, this is too much to deal with before coffee,” she groaned as she stood up and pressed on her eye’s with her fingers until they hurt. Emma missed her as soon as she got up and she was absolutely not satisfied with that answer.

“You know, after all this time, I still don’t know why you bother lying to me. I can always tell.” Emma crossed her arms, following Regina into the kitchen, “I get this whole scary, icy fortress thing you’ve got going on doesn’t allow for a lot of letting people in. But you could at least be honest with me and not say you’re fine when you’re not.”

“And you’re being completely honest with me, are you?” Regina challenged, hands flying to her hips defensively, “You go romping into the forest with Mal to fix a problem with your magic, which I might remind you I’ve invested a lot of time into and likely know more about it than she does. First Mal blows me off because of whatever you two were doing and then you actively avoid saying anything about it for the whole evening? And you expect me not to worry. Tell me what’s wrong with you and then we can talk about honesty.”

“That’s different -“ Emma said, her mind working fast to cover herself, “I can’t really talk about that mostly because I don’t understand it. But there is nothing wrong with me. No need for concern.”

“You know, I may not be gifted with your so-called superpower, but you should know by now that you cannot lie to me as much as I cannot lie to you.”

Emma stopped in her tracks, weighing up her options. Did she tell Regina that she had boiled with jealousy to the point of her losing control of her magic and risk their relationship for a chance at honesty between them? The Saviour found herself alarmed that the prospect of that much exposure didn’t scare her as much as it had a mere twelve hours ago. 

“So we’re at an impasse,” Regina looked at her, misinterpreting her silence. Emma stared right back, both unflinching and unwilling to budge, “Fine. We’ll leave it at that, then. I’m going to get dressed.”

“Regina, wait,” it was the closest they had come to arguing in a while and it made Emma wildly uncomfortable, “I’m - I’m not very good at saying what I want to say. At least not in any way that makes sense. Every time I try it just comes out all wrong and I don’t mean to upset you.”

Regina turned and looked at her through guarded eyes and pursed lips. 

“Look the words, I can’t ever get them out sounding right. They get stuck in my head and I can’t really - “ Emma sighed, frustrated running her hand through her hair, “I just want what’s best for you. I don’t think bottling all this up is good. I'm not trying to push or freak you out or anything, I just - I just care. I care a _lot_. Probably more than you realise and I’m just worried. ”

It was enough to cut through her defences as easily as knife through soft butter that had been left to warm on a window sill on a summer’s day. 

“Emma, don’t worry about me.”

“You’ve said that before. As you might recall, it didn’t end well.”

“Yes, thank you, I remember,” Regina said a little harshly before backing down slightly, “Emma, it’s not that I don’t trust you. I do. Implicitly and completely. But you have to understand...I’m not exactly used to - or necessarily comfortable with - this particular topic of conversation.”

“Okay. Then forget talking. Just know that I’m here to help, any way you want. You can come over and wake me up the next time you have nightmare, or if you ever just need the company. I’m here.” 

“You’ve already helped enough,” Regina said, her heart fluttering and filling her chest with radiant warmth.

“No, Regina, I haven’t,” Emma interjected firmly, and Regina knew that look in her eyes. It was the same look she had given her in Neil’s apartment in New York when she said she believed in her. The same look she gave her when she had shouted, ‘ _You’ve worked too hard to have your happiness destroyed_.’ The one that made Regina feel safe and cherished and cared for in a way that no one else had ever been able to make her feel. And it melted her so-called ‘icy fortress’ to a puddle. 

“Emma - “

“Mom? Ma?” Henry called out from the landing on the stairs, and the moment was gone, “Everything okay down there?”

“Everything’s fine, Henry,” Regina called up, and the thumping of footsteps filled the hall and the teenager appeared before them.

“I forgot to set my alarm, so I’m running late. Why didn’t you wake me up?” He said, running a comb through his unruly hair.

Emma sighed, looking to the clock on the mantle. It was later than they usually left their morning routine, but she wasn’t about to be the one to explain that they had were too busy enjoying their newfound closeness to wake their son. “Sorry, kid. Just didn’t realise, I guess.”

“How was your date? We want to hear everything,” Regina insisted, taking the comb from Henry and dutifully fixing the spot he missed at the back. 

“It was good. I’ll tell you all about it on the way to school,” he smiled at Regina, and Emma’s heart melted at the sight. No matter how quickly he was growing, the smile he had solely for his adoptive mother never changed. He took the comb back then looked between her and Emma, who was grinning at them like an idiot, “And you? How was your da - evening? Looked... _cosy_.”

Regina just gaped at him and Emma cleared her throat as she kicked the floor with her heel. 

“Oh god, is that the time?” Regina exclaimed. 

“Yes, Mom. Nice try we’ve already established were late. Sooooo - “

“Better go get dressed then,” She interrupted, attempting to shoo their meddling son back up the stairs. 

“It’s too late to make breakfast here. We can swing by Granny’s and pick something up on the way to school. I'll even let you get one of those coffee drinks _i_ _f_ you listen to your mother and get dressed now,” Emma said, glancing at the clock on the mantle. Henry nodded and bolted up the stairs to get dressed, and Emma walked over to Regina, placing a hand on her shoulder and leaving it there. They had crossed a line into a new level of physical closeness and now Emma was taking advantage of every opportunity to be near her, “You too, Madame Mayor. As funny as it would be for you to show up to work in your pyjamas, I know you wouldn’t enjoy the teasing.”

She quirked an eyebrow, flicked her wrist and the silk set and slippers were replaced by a black dress, stilettos and an embroidered blazer.

“Better?”

“Yeah,” Emma said, taking the time to look Regina up and down. They had been playing this particular game for years, where one would obviously ogle the other, they would lock eyes, and then never mention it. It was infuriating to any unfortunate should who happened to be in the same room as them. “I didn’t really want anyone else seeing you in your pyjamas anyway.”

“Anyone else?” Dark eyebrows inched toward Regina’s hairline, eyes darkening playfully, sauntering even closer to the blushing blonde, “Are you saying that the privilege of seeing me in nightwear is exclusively your’s? That's a tad presumptuous.”

“Uhhh...Did you forget the part where you fell asleep on me?” Emma said, hand rubbing the back of her neck. 

“Not at all. You make a wonderful mattress, dear” Regina practically purred, placing a hand on either side of Emma’s collar and the Saviour’s heart was back to galloping wildly in her chest. If they were getting in the business of crossing lines, Regina thought, she might as well cross them.

“Gee, thanks,” she said sarcastically, “You make dinner once, next thing you know you’re in the same category as the furniture.”

“Mmmm,” Regina hummed, thumb and forefinger playing with the rollneck of Emma’s jumper, “It was a wonderful meal.”

“I’ll come back every night and make it again if you want,” Emma rushed out, and Regina snickered at her eagerness. Perhaps...perhaps she had a chance. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Ah,” Regina said, blinking rapidly and breaking their playful banter, “It’s Friday. Friday night is - “

“Oh yeah, your’s and Henry’s night. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Regina agreed, “Who knows, Miss Sawn. You pull off another evening like that and, who knows...I might even reward you for your hard work.”

The saviour gulped, “Do I have to wait until tomorrow?”

Regina tossed her head back and laughed, full and rich and instead of being embarrassed at just how transparent she was being, Emma just basked in it. 

“Yes, you do. Tomorrow,” Regina promised. For the third time in twenty-four hours, Regina leaned forward, licking her lips before pressing them to the Saviour’s cheek. Emma’s eyes fluttered closed and she breathed deeply and Regina pressed down on her cheek harder than necessary, making sure that when she pulled back there was a smudge of red lipstick. Admiring her handwork, she met Emma’s gaze and her heart almost stopped in her chest at the blown pupils and tinted cheeks.

“Something wrong, Emma?” Regina asked.

“Hmm? _No_. What? No...” Emma stuttered, not breaking their gaze. 

“Good. Now, I believe someone promised me a ride to work?”

“Y - Yeah,’ she stuttered, eyes flicking down the full, red lips that had just brushed her cheek. Regina followed her gaze, smirking and dropping her own chocolate brown eyes to Emma’s slightly agape mouth, not bothering to keep the hunger out of her stare. 

“Ah-hem,” a voice coughed from behind them and they sprang apart to see Henry looking very pleased with himself and highly entertained, “Oh, don’t mind me. By all means, continue.” 

He gestured to the empty space between then, eyebrows raised expectantly. Emma resisted the urge to hit him over the head. Regina definitely wouldn’t approve of that. 

“Get in the car, kid. Before I strangle you,” Emma said, throwing her arm around the teenage boy’s shoulder and they laughed at her empty threat. 

Regina stepped out onto the porch behind them, perfectly entered between tall white columns. She was smiling, and she couldn’t remember the last time her heart felt as light as it did, watching Emma and Henry make their way to the car, her nightmare almost forgotten. Almost. 

\--

**PAST**

Eyes snapping open in cold fear, she inhaled sharply through her nose and tried not to panic. She couldn’t breathe through her mouth. Any movement in her jaw pulled at her skin and the taste of glue that met her tongue when she forced it through her mouth led her to the only reasonable conclusion...Duct tape. 

Her back screamed in agony as she tried to look around, and she was sure she had a bruise across her shoulder blades that would bear a striking resemblance to the frame of her coffee table. What didn’t help was that her arms were firmly fixed behind her back, and the more she tried to struggle against them the more her muscles strained and twisted. She was on the ground, she could deduce that much without having to open her eyes. Her head throbbed in pain but the cold floor offered a little relief even if it meant her nostrils filled with dust and grit whenever she tried to draw in a breath. The distorted sound of music that floated up through the floorboards and she could feel their vibrations where her ear was pressed to the ground. As she tested the limits of her pain and tried to break free, her hair tumbled into her face and she tried to shake it from where it scratched at her stinging eyes. Desperately trying to shake it from her face to will her body to sit itself out, but as the pain tore through her she whimpered, smothered by the tape but it alerted the other person in the room that she was awake. 

“Comfortable?” 

Regina searched the shadows of the room for the owner of that voice because - no it couldn’t be. But she knew it was. She knew that voice. She had been expecting this since her discovery in the graveyard, but she had to admit the duct tape was a surprise. 

Streaks of orange streetlight and fractured moonlight from the boarded-up window crossed the room, but in their dimness she could make him out. Leopold the White was leering at her from where he was sat, cut crystal glass of amber liquid in his hand. He reached over and clicked on a table lamp and Regina got a good look at her ex-husband staring down at her with look she had never seen in his face. It was like waking up in one of her nightmares and the only thing that kept her from vomiting was that she knew she would likely choke on it when it met the resistance of the tape on her mouth. Whatever crude retaliation she wanted to spit at the familiar figure was stifled, and she could only watch from her position on the floor as he pushed back this chair and stood to his full height. Gone were the robes and furs of the enchanted forest, he looked just as much from Storybrooke as the rest of purgatory’s residents, his clean-cut suit and rich silk tie the only sign of wealth and status. 

“Come on, get up. Or do you need help,” he finally stood before her and watched Regina attempt and fail to heave her aching body upright. A large hand reached out and grabbed the neckline of her dress, pulling her roughly to lean against the wall. 

_Wait? Dress?_

She had been wearing then same damn outfit since they’d arrived, all black and modern, when Stephan had attacked her; everything this dress was not. White and gold threads wove decorative patterns over the stain skirts and the bodice was tight and restrictive. Looking down wildly, her long hair tumbling down her shoulders. She hadn’t had hair this long since the Enchanted Forest and this dress should be charred ash in Maleficent’s fireplace. 

“Do you like it? A gift from Hades, he sends his regards by the way. I got the idea from watching him send Cora away looking like the miller’s daughter she really is,” he reached out and pulled on her hair, causing her neck to snap to the side, “You really are much nicer to look at like this. None of that haughty, drastic black and leather. Softer.” Trying to tear her hair out his grip, she didn’t care if it ripped out her skull. Being dressed up like some doll was sickening and she felt disgusting. 

“Shh...” He ran his the back of his hand over the crown of her head, and she jerked away as he pressed his lips to her forehead, “Come now, Regina, There's no need for that. You were so sweet and charming when you were knocked out. Now smile for me.”

Glaring, she flicked her eyes down and jutted out her chin. 

“Oh right, how silly of me.” He pinched the edge on the duct tape that was wrapped around her mouth, taking no care that he caught her skin in the process, and she braced herself. Ripping it off her face, her skin burned at the adhesive left her skin stinging as she gasped for breath. She tried to wet her lips and but her mouth was unbearable dry.

“Leopold,” she said hoping for some of her standard minatory warning in her voice, but it sounded like a plea and he smirked down at her.

“Now, now, Regina, where are my manners? Can I offer you a drink?”

He wafted the cognac under her nose and the smell was enough to send her heaving. He threw it in her face, and the alcohol burned her eyes and the cuts on her face were alight with pain. When she could finally open her eyes, and she had finished spluttering and coughing, she glowered menacingly through dripping liquid.

“I’d wipe that look off your face if I were you. If you know what’s best for you. There's no magic here.”

“Coward. So that’s why it to finally decided to show his face.” Regina said with more confidence than she felt. It was easy in the shadow of such a familiar threat to slip behind the mask of the Evil Queen, “What took you so long? Afraid your daughter would see the monster you really are?”

He laughed and its horrid jeering had her blood boiling, “Considering how much time she spends with you, I think my dear Snow would be able to forgive any monster. Don’t you agree?”

Regina made no answer, choosing to scowl at him instead. Her mouth ached, and she knew she hadn’t pulled off being any type of menacing. 

“Is this what this is about? Come to tell me off for not being a good girl?”

“That amongst other things,” He divulged, “A friend asked a favour. Get rid of you. Isn’t it nice when someone else wants the same thing as you, especially when he’s the king of the underworld?”

Fuck. If he was on the same side with Hades, perhaps she was deeper in the shit than she thought. 

Her thoughts went to Emma. Wonderful, loyal Emma who had warned her, and begged to stay by her side. She would have noticed that Regina was missing. The brunette was confident that the Saviour would have gone back for her, and found her gone and would be looking for her. Her Saviour was on her way, she just knew it. All she had to do was to stall long enough for her to find her. 

And Emma _would_ find her. 

“So you’re making deals with Hades now? Tell me why King Leopold, he-who-has-everything and is so happy that he casts aside three wishes from a genie, has to barter with the lord of Hell.”

“Now, Regina, you’ve been here for a while now. Surely you know how this works,” He stroked her hair from behind her and she tried to shake him off. He held her head in place and lowered his mouth to her ear, biting down on its shell and licking at the broken skin. 

Repressing a whimper, she spoke, “Enlighten me.” 

_Keep him talking_. She still needed to know his plan. And if she could put off the oblique threat that lay in waiting, ready to pounce like a lion with their every exchange of words and with his every move. The tension was unbearable, but she’d be damned if she cowered at his feet again. 

“I’m sure you are aware, those who atone for their sins or resolve their unfinished business with good intentions, get gifted internal peace. But because of you, my dearest,” he ran his hands over her arms until they were around her neck. He squeezed, putting enough pressure that the air seemed thin and she had to fight her body’s instinct to panic, “Because of you, I was sent here before my time, wondering how my beautiful wife who I gave everything to could want me dead? How she could so easily exploit me and let me suffer in Hell without so much as a second thought. Do you know how torturous it is down here? What it does to your mind?”

“Am I meant to feel sorry for you?” Regina spat slowly, the Evil Queen slipping out of hiding. He raised his hand and she recoiled when it made contact with her cheek, flinching and whimpering in pain.

“I don’t want your pity. I want my revenge,”

And evil smile simpered across her face. She may have been covered in blood and sweat and Cognac, her hair loose and long and all out of place, but her trademark malicious smile still radiated power. Throwing her head back she laughed, that terrifying cackle that once had her citizens obedient with fear. 

“Revenge? Well, you must admit the irony is amusing,” she smirked devilishly, bluffing with more poise and nerve than someone in her position should have, “Let me go, and I won’t put you through hell for this...at least not as much as you deserve.”

“You’re still trying to bargain with me? No, Regina, there’s no way out. The only way out is through me.”

“Gladly. Though I am surprised you’re picking fights with me. I’d be careful,” the Evil Queen threatened, voice low and dangerous, “You of all people should know not to mess with me.”

“You’re powerless - “

“You know what I think. I think you’re afraid of me,” She taunted, “I think that you’ve had to side with Hades just to get anywhere near me. That's why you’ve cut off my magic. Why you send your friend to collect me - not man enough to face me yourself. Tell me, what type of great and mighty King needs his friend to hold down his wife just so he can get laid? Needs to marry a child?”

“You bitch,” he hit her again, but this time she was ready, not breaking eye contact and not showing any pain. 

“Was that meant to convince me otherwise? Coward.”

“Even if I was afraid of you, which I’m not, I’ve made every precaution to make sure you are powerless. Or at least, Hades was happy to lend his assistance,” He smirked, “He really doesn’t like you. Something about a woe-begotten sister? Not that I’m surprised, you’re not easy to like. So he wants you gone. And I offered to help.”

“My friends will come looking for me. We haven’t been scared out of Hell yet, and you are certainly not going to be the one to do it.”

“Oh yes? My son-in-law and granddaughter. Now, what about that little boy? Henry, right? Is he my son or my great-grandson?”

“He is _nothing_ to you!" she howled, "You lay so much as a finger on Henry, I’ll end you.”

“You can’t harm me here,” He laughed in the face of her threat, “I can tell by the look on your face you want to kill me - but - oh wait - you already have. And now, my darling wife, you are going to pay for it.”

“What the hell happened to you? How in the hell did Leopold the Good and Kind get like this?”

“You’ve answered that question yourself, Regina. Hell. I've been trapped down here for decades, watching its population grow at your hand. You ruined the name of my kingdom. You hunted my daughter for sport. You ruined everything I had, and I’ve been unable to move on because of you.”

“Well, Snow and I are all buddy-buddy again, no one cares about the good name of your Kingdom anymore and, if it makes you feel any better, you took everything I had once so we’re even. So feel free to move on. You don’t need to do this.”

“I think I do. Have you not been listening, I can’t move on with a darkened soul. Not to anywhere that’s worth going. And now I have to walk up and down these sorry streets, trapped in this cage of a realm. Surrounded by my former loyal citizens and do you know what I see in their eyes? Hmm? Pity. Pity for the King who was tricked by the despicable Evil Queen - “

“I’m not that person anymore - “

“Save it. It’s humiliating. Humiliating to be trapped by my own failure. And I grew to hate you so much that it’s consumed my soul 

“You don’t think _I_ know humiliation?!” She almost shrieked, “Or what it’s like to be trapped and have hate eat at me?! You made damn sure I lived that truth every day. You don’t get to be upset with me after - “

“Shut up!”

Her face was stinging again, the echoing sound of the slap seemed to reach her ears moments after it happened and she tasted blood. He grabbed her face in a bruising grip, one she thought she had long since escaped, and pulled her face up she was face to face with him, his rancid hitting her face, too warm and wet and her throat recoiled at the stench of liquor and rot. 

Swirling the blood in her mouth with her saliva, she spat in his face, her eyes wild with defiance. Baring her teeth in threat she glared up at him, as he shut his eyes against her spit. Slowly, he wiped the liquid from his face with his hand and locked eye’s with her. To Regina’s horror, he licked it from his fingers, making a show of savouring it and smirked. 

“Oh, fair Regina. I’m going to enjoy this.”

She’d heard those words before and she started to fight harder against her restraints. She had to get out. Looking to the only door to the room, praying to a God she didn’t believe in that someone would burst through. She clenched her hands and willed for some magical spark to ignite at her fingertips, but there was nothing. 

“I will fight you. I won’t make it easy. You won’t steal from me again,” she promised, reaching for the last shreds of courage she had. 

“Well I suppose if that's the way it has to be,” he said, not showing any signs of regret or remorse. He released her and Regina couldn’t believe her luck. Had that actually worked? Leopold stalked over the where he was sitting before, circling behind the table and picking up the golden topped bottle of cognac. Her eyes followed him around the room as he took a sip from the bottle, staggering back to her hatred in his eyes. “I was so looking forward to hearing you scream again. But there will be time for that when I have you well and truly broken. So for now, wife, it’s lights out.”

The cognac bottle came crashing down on her head, shattering on impact. Once again she was out cold. 

\--

When she came to again, the light had changed. It must have been nearing dawn, as a faint pink line that had replaced the artificial glow of Main Street at night danced across her face and the cool surface of the table she was pressed into. The cramping in her shoulders meant her arms were still fixed firmly behind her and a cool breeze danced across her legs where her toes strained to reach the floor. Thumping bass from the rooms below had changed to mellow music, craning country and she could just barely make out the words echoing in sweet choral notes and tangy melody wafting up to her ears:

_This Bed of Bad Luck,_

She lurched forward, hipbones pressed into hardwood and there was a soreness between her legs. It retreated before thrusting at her again. The table was creaking rhythmically beneath her, and the more awareness took ahold oh her the more she wished someone would knock her out again. 

_This bed of not enough._

Leopold’s grunting from behind her was a sound she never thought she would be tortured with again. The discomfort and pain that came with every invading thrust was a brutish torment she thought she had truly rid herself of. 

_Of never finding True Love._

He slipped in his rhythm and she bit her lip against a cry of pain. She shut her eyes against tears, deciding against her instinct to fight him off. What good would it do other than probably increase her pain? The hand in her hair tightened, her scalp burned in pain and the numbness that she willed to take over was kept at bay. 

'I was so looking forward to hearing you scream again.' Well, that was something she wouldn’t give him. 

All there was to do was wait until he was finished with her, and wait for the relief that came when he would discard her as he always did. Her mind, cruellest always to herself than to any of her victims, made a sadistic analogy. She felt like one of her precious apples, flesh bitten and chewed and masticated to a pulp. And when she was only left with a core, and the world had had its fill, she was tossed to the ground. Left to go yellow and brown in the sun, rotting and spoiled until disappearing into the earth. 

_Well now it’s time to right my wrongs_

How she wished for another poisoned apple. Or the power to break through her restraints and reach her hand into that hollow chest and burn him alive. Or how she would love to push him off the stone ledge into the roaring flames below. Or push him into the river of lost souls. 

The long-fought battle in her heart ignited once again. Where there was light there was darkness. And where there was Regina in pain, there was the Evil Queen. 

_Because I made this bed that I’ve been sleeping on._


	7. House on Fire - Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we're far enough into this story to break away from the usual format. However this chapter was meant to be the last in three parts - but I've actually split it into two chapters so we will get back to Hell in the next one! Mad about it, but I had to split it into three because 
> 
> A) I was going back through and so much happens that it actually was too much as one. I was overwhelmed and I wrote the damn thing.  
> B) I did try to cut some stuff out, but the only things I could get rid of without it feeling half-assed was Zelena's comic relief, and I couldn't live with that sacrifice.  
> C) I'm about to have a crazy week because I've been given a shit ton of extra projects at work so I wanted to get something out before my life is no longer my own. Annoyed about it, but what can you do?
> 
> Anyway, the title is inspired by 'House on Fire' by sia. Just in case anyone is making a playlist (jk, I've already done that.)
> 
> Thank you as always for your lovely support!!! Enjoy Xx

Home is where the heart is.

At least that's what people always told her. The inspiring phrase that was meant to instil comfort had always irritated Emma. It reminded her of one of the foster home in Minnesota, where those words were painted in bad calligraphy on a poorly executed shabby-chic piece of wall art. The kind of decoration that cost three dollars and would be abandoned in the back of the clearance racks at a Wal-Mart. The kind that meant nothing.

Home was more a mythical construct for Emma than a reality. Every time she thought that maybe she had found one, it got thrown back in her face. It had happened so many times that eventually it stopped hurting. Being passed from group home to foster care and back again to social services countless times had that effect. Prison and broken promises from Neal had hardly helped. Since then she had come so far, but that was a scar that had calloused so firmly that she was convinced it wouldn’t ever bother her again. The callous was why she had abandoned her flat in Boston without so much as a second thought, why she had left her and Henry’s apartment in New York, and why she never made much of a fuss over moving out of the loft. Yeah, she had been surprised by how much she was missing Storybrooke when she had been sent back in time. And it was true, she had missed her parents and had finally found a home of some sorts. But the attachment that others felt towards four walls and a ceiling, to simple brick and mortar, was still beyond her. 

So to say she was shocked when that wound finally split open again would be an understatement. 

“This is a waste of time, I want to see my son,” Emma said, looking longingly over Regina’s shoulder at the warm glow in the house beyond. The brunette moved again to block her path.

“Well I don’t think he wants to see you,” She snapped, and Emma couldn’t blame her for wanting to protect Henry. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to be barred from the mansion on Mifflin Street. “Good-bye, Miss Swan.”

The door slammed in her face, the iron knocker swinging back against its metal plate with a resounding tap as if to punctuate the already definitive moment. She backed away, looking up to Henry’s window, ready to beg for forgiveness if it meant she would be let in. But she saw the hurt in his eyes before the curtains were shut firmly against her.

Suddenly the whole four walls and ceiling thing made sense. She’d never yearned for a house to be her home before. She longed to see a certain pattern of parquet floorboards sliding beneath slipper socks that Regina had insisted were “ _far too childish for a woman of your age_ ,” but she never actually confiscated them like she threatened to. She longed to run her fingers over the delicate but beautifully finished panelling or bury her face in a cushion that smelt like a very particular laundry powder. She craved the taste of homemade apple cider and the atmospheric glow of a tabe lamp in the corner. Little things that people had always said they missed when they were homesick and Emma had scoffed at. They made sense now. 

She may have been the Dark One, but then standing barred to the outside, she felt as fragile as she had when she had been kicked from another foster home or watched another kid get adopted while she was left behind. Alone. 

\--

**PRESENT**

“You’ve been gone all day,” a voice said from the kitchen and she jumped. She had just gotten back to the house, and when she had arrived she had taken the dark windows and locked doors as a sign that she was alone. 

“Killian! Geez, why are sitting in the dark? It's creepy,” Emma flicked on the light, not really caring that only one of the lightbulbs in the chandelier worked. She couldn’t be bothered to replace them, nor could she conjure up the motivation to remove the cobwebs that strung between its arms, collecting more and more dust.

“Where have you been?” He asked, ignoring her question. Emma had to admit she felt a little guilty because he looked truly terrible. His hair was greasy, eyes red and bloodshot and he hadn’t changed since their argument the day before. And, of course, he was once again drunk. 

“I think it might be time to lay off the booze,” she said carefully, eyes flicking to the flask that she was pretty sure was for water but stank of something stronger. 

“Where have you been?” He repeated, firmer this time, carving patterns in the top of her dining room table and accruing a little pile of wood shavings. She knew she should tell him off for his mindless vandalisation of their furniture but, once agian, she found she didn’t care. 

“I had work. Some of us have _jobs_ , Killian.”

“I meant last night, Swan,” He spat. 

“What does it matter to you - “

“I’m your _fucking_ husband. Or did you forget?” He barked, “Now tell me, damn it. Where were you?”

“Not that I owe you an answer, but I was with Regina,” Emma said, crossing her arms, “She was having a bad night.”

“Of course you were,” He shook his head and it looked like he was laughing, “And what if I was the one having a bad night?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She asked, “Besides, you made it pretty clear you didn’t want to be around me and would rather be drinking at the docks.”

“Did it ever occur to you Swan, that you’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are?” He said, slamming down his flask and standing. He staggered towards her, swaying in his step and hook glinting menacingly as he waved it at her. She couldn’t help but feel threatened by the way he was leering at her and the familiar spark in her chest and the taste of electrocution burnt on her tongue. 

_Control_ , she thought, trying to think back on her session with Mal, _Keep it together, Swan._

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you don’t? You don’t think the whole town doesn’t notice how you two have shacked up together? Or how you follow her around like a love-sick puppy, begging for scraps? How humiliating do you think that is for me, the whole of Storybrooke knowing my wife is sleeping with the Mayor.”

“How dare you!?” She accused, voice getting shrill, “Regina is Henry’s mother! Henry, my son! The one you have made no effort with since we got married. And since he has made it clear he doesn’t want to be here, I have to go to him.”

“You don’t exactly encourage him.”

“So he can watch you get drunk and listen to us fight? Yeah, that sounds like the fun family environment for him.”

“Or because it’s the perfect excuse to spend time with the woman you’re so obviously in love with,” he snarled cruelly, spilling out the words as if they were daggers. 

“Wh- What?”

“Although you’ve certainly made me look like one, I am not an idiot.”

“Killian,” she begged, trying to take calming breaths as the push of magic at her fingers was getting stronger and she swore the single lightbulb began to flicker, “I have no idea what you’re talking about...” 

“You don’t think I wouldn’t notice? You sacrificed your soul to save Regina from falling back into the darkness, but you had no problem throwing me in headfirst?”

“I- that’s not,” Emma stuttered, not having a counter-argument to that, “That was different. I was saving your life!”

“You should have let me die, I’ll never forgive you for that Swan, as much as I thought I wanted to.”

“You hated me for that, and you still asked me to marry you?” She screamed, her own anger escalating and the burning sensation in her hands intensifying. She didn’t notice the wave of magic she sent out that sent tremors through the floorboards and cracked windows in their panes, “So this whole time! I stayed with you and you've resented me as much as I resent you?! And you blame me for ruining your life!”

“If marrying me ruined your life, why did _you_ say yes?” He accused her, shoving her with the hard metal of his hook on her sternum. She shoved him off her, infuriated further at the physical aggression.

“Because I felt like I owed you! Which, clearly, I do _NOT_. I was trying to help you and I got in too deep. You were so reliant on me and I still cared,” Emma admitted wildly, “I gave up so much for you. I gave up her for you. And treat me like shit-”

“And you treat me like second best!”

“You ARE second best!” The words were out her mouth before she could stop them. Killian’s face darkened and Emma couldn’t quite believe what she had shouted, “Killian. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean - ”

“I think you do,” he fumed and Emma felt the shift in his demeanour. The magic was back, not satisfied with its small release and raging against her palms and her self-control again. She could tell by the cut-throat look on his face that there was no going back from where they were heading. He spoke vindictively, “You know, when you left me in Hell - before the Gods gave me my miserable life back - there was fun little rumour circulating around. One that someone had finally gotten the upper hand on our dear Evil Queen. And was strolling down Main Street, living - so to speak- to tell the tale. Bragging about having her at his mercy - “

“You _shut up_ ,” Emma warned, voice as low as the ground that rumbled beneath her and as threatening as the dead lightbulbs that sprung to life to crack and fizz before exploding. Tiles began to slide from the roof, and the cracked glass of her window’s blew out, wooden panes splintering and collapsing, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hit a nerve have I?” He taunted and Emma gnashed her teeth behind her stoic expression, “If you ask me - “

“No one is asking you.”

“If you ask me,” He repeated, sly and cruel and it had been a while since Emma heard that tone from him. He sounded just like he had when he was the Dark One, and Emma chastised herself for ever being so foolish to think that she could help him, “That bitch deserved what she got.”

Emma saw red and ran at him, not taking any notice of how the curtains ignited in flames, or how the ceiling above the kitchen began to concave. She pushed him back against the crumbling plaster and recoiled her fist, preparing to hit him. The reasonable voice in her head, the one that sounded a lot like Regina saying ‘ _Don’t, he’s not worth it_ ,’ stopped her.

“Take. That. Back,” She ground out, seething, releasing her fist and pointing at him accusingly. 

He laughed bitterly, voice full of resentment, “I wish I’d been there to see her finally lose, after all that she has taken from me. Endure a little of the humiliation she has no issue dishing out. ”

“You’re _vile_!” She shouted, shaking in fury like she’d never felt. 

“Apparently you arrived in her rescue too late. I guess the Saviour has a habit of letting people down.”

“Shut up! _SHUT UP_!” She exploded, the shaking in the ground reached its peak as she shouted. The chandelier fell from the ceiling and fell through the crumbling floorboards at her feet, sending shattered crystal across the room. 

Emma paused, looking down into the breaking foundation of the building, shock and horror crossing her face in sudden awareness. Her magic was tearing the house apart. The house she hated was going up in flames around her, the structure coming apart before her eyes. The house that had never been a home, with a cracked foundation of its own, was finally falling. 

“Well done, Swan,“ he spat, before clambering to his feet running for the door, “just another thing to add to list of things you’ve wrecked.”  
  
She stood, wide-eyed and shaking in the aftermath, disbelieving of the destruction she’d caused, frozen like a deer in the headlights. Tears slipped from her eyes and whether they were of exhaustion, mourning or relief she didn’t know. The body of a tree from the street fell through the rapidly decaying walls and Emma jolted. The rush of oxygen from outside fanned the flames, and they spread quickly. She raised her hands to quell them but no magic came and she was just left feeling like the last of her energy had been leeched from her. Smoke infiltrated her lungs and she started to panic for breath. 

She had to get out. 

Feeling more and more drained of her magic and energy with every passing second, she tried to head for the door. The building was caving in around her and she needed to get out, but she was suddenly so so tired. Actually, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so exhausted. Perhaps she could just fall asleep and wait for the roof to fall on her, it certainly would be easier than mustering up the energy to move her limbs toward the front door. 

Taking another swaying step and straining her eyes until they hurt, just willing them to stay open, she felt a vibration in her back pocket. Slowly, as if she was moving through molasses, she reached for it stumbling down the hall and trying to focus her vision so she could read the name that was illuminated across the screen. Breathing deeply, she pressed on the little green circle and shakily brought the device to her ear.   
  
“Regina?” She asked, hoping her plea wasn’t drowned out by the roar of growing flames, or the crack of falling beams breaking apart oak floors, or the clamour of pots and pans falling off collapsing shelves and clattering through broken dishes and bent silverware. 

“Emma! Emma, what’s going on?! What’s that noise?” A frantic but wonderfully familiar voice shouted down the phone.

“I need - “ her vision swam as she sagged against the collapsing wall, using it to ease her weight to the floor before it disintegrated completely, drywall and insulation covering her in fine powder and she coughed as the dust mixed with the smoke in her lungs. 

“What? What do you need? Emma, hold on, I’m on my way,” Regina sounded out of breath and her voice disappeared in the sound of amplified wind.

“I need you.”

\--

The uproar of raucous voices, dinging of bells and rushing around meant only one thing: Friday night at Granny’s was crowded. So crowded that the table that was always reserved for the Mayor and her son at 7pm sharp was full. 

“Sorry, but Sneezy’s reservation overran which cut into Ariel’s, and she insists on the full hour. So you’re gonna have to wait,” Granny said brusquely, “You can sit at the bar and order a drink it you want.”

“Why do all of my problems start with dwarves?” Regina said with an eye-roll, “If we must. Pepsi, Henry?”

“Yes, please,” he followed her in, snickering at her irritation and Granny’s brusque bustling. 

“Hey, Henry,” A familiar face waved from by the jukebox in the back, where she was sifting through the song list, “Come help me pick out some music that doesn’t suck.”

“Hi Lily,” he said, abandoning Regina at the bar to order their drinks, “Do you like Yazoo?”

Regina smiled as Henry left her side, enjoying watching him when he didn’t think she was paying attention. He was growing up so quickly, but sometimes he reminded her of the little boy he had once been. Her heart filled with pride and love that she didn’t notice the waitress tapping her pen against her pad behind the counter.

“Pepsi and a red wine, right?” The waitress asked.

“Ruby! What, you’ve been back for one day and Granny has already got you working again?” Regina laughed, taking a seat on the leather stool, “I knew she ran a tight ship.”

“Nah, she actually wanted me to relax a little. I think she’s glad to have me back for a bit,” Ruby smiled to the back where the elderly woman was barking orders at her waiting staff, “But I wanted to, you know. For old times sake.”

“Well, I’m sorry we haven’t made any more progress in getting you back to Dorothy,” Regina said sincerely, “But, it is nice to have you back.”

“Awww, look at you. Going soft, Madame Mayor?”

“Never!”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Ruby winked, “I’ll go get those drinks. Oh, and don’t let Henry do that thing on the jukebox where he plays ‘ _What’s New Pussy Cat?_ ’ on repeat as a joke again. Granny is ready to commit murder tonight, and is just looking for an excuse.”

Regina laughed at the memory, remembering the inhabitants of the diner going slowly insane much to Henry’s delight. There had been shouts of relief when the song finally changed to ‘ _It’s Not Unusual_.” But when the opening of ‘ _What’s New Pussy Cat_?’ had started up again, Regina was sure there were going to be riots in the street. 

_“You’ve raised a villain, Regina,” Emma had joked, face planting to the table with exasperation._

_“Get your hair out my food,” Regina had teased, taking the opportunity to rake her fingers through golden blonde locks as she shifted them out of her oatmeal._

_“I saw it online, I thought it would be funny,” Henry said, through his laughter._

_“Well, it’s not funny. That’s going to be stuck in my head all day,” Emma grumbled._

_“You’re right it’s not funny,” Henry grinned, “It’s hilarious.”_

She smiled to herself at the memory, regretting that she hadn’t asked Emma to join them tonight. If she was being honest with herself, she needed the time to think after the events of the morning. The ghosts of Emma’s fingers in her hair and the warmth of her embrace had lingered, and she had spent the better part of her day trying to get her heart down to a reasonable BPM. Some undeterminable change in the way Emma was looking at her had hustled her eager confidence, and she’d shocked herself at her forwardness. She had mulled over the words a thousand times since she had said them:

_“You pull off another evening like that and, who knows...I might even reward you for your hard work.”_

_“Do I have to wait until tomorrow?”_

She’d wanted to backtrack - cover her slip up - but that spark in Emma’s gaze had intensified, and she hadn’t backed away horrified. Quite the opposite, As out of line as she felt she had been, Regina was sure she should feel guilty or afraid of the ramifications - but she wasn’t. Regret wasn’t her thing, and Emma’s gaze in the moment afterwards along with the idiotic smile she wore during the drive to the school and then to town hall made Regina feel safe. What that safety meant for them though...well that was what had her heart flapping about in her chest again.

Lips twitching upwards, she rested her head on her palm as dreamy eyes gazed into space like the hopeless romantic she always denied she wasn’t.

“Are you too busy daydreaming to want some company?” 

“I do _not_ daydream,” Regina insisted, quickly snapping out of her embarrassing trance. Mal just glanced at her, raising her eyebrows in disbelief. 

“You look well, raven,” she said, easing onto the stool next to her, slowly folding her grey coat in her lap, “It looks like you’ve finally managed to sleep.”

“Mmm,” the brunette hummed, nodding her thanks to Ruby and sipping her wine. It had been exactly a week since the pair had been in this exact same position, people watching as they sat side-by-side on stools at a bar. That evening had gone very differently from where tonight was headed, she doubted she would welcome Mal’s distraction tonight. As much as she had a fierce affection for her friend and lover, this spark of hope with Emma was more valuable to her. 

“I’m glad,” Mal said, smiling, “Though I must admit, I did miss you.”

“Mal,” she started slowly, this wasn’t going to be easy, “I’m so grateful for you, and you will always have such an important part in my heart - But I don’t want to lie to you. This thing - whatever it is we’re doing...it has to end. 

“Because of Miss Swan," Mal responded simply, not looking the least bit surprised. Regina swallowed, instincts to deny and deflect rising as they always did. But this was Mal, and she owed her the truth. 

“Yes,” She confirmed. Of all the reactions she expected, Mal looking like she was refraining from laughing at her was not one of them. “You’re not upset?”

“Come now, pet. I have eyes, and a rather well-trained intuition when it comes to you. If you remember, we had started this whole tryst with me calling you out her and offering to help make her jealous - which, actually in retrospect, worked a lot better than planned - but anyway,” Mal said quickly at Regina’s confused look, “At the very least, if she’s bad in bed, I’m confident you know where to find me.”

“ _Mal_!”

“Only joking. Although I suppose, if you were willing to sleep with Robin, your standards must not be that high. Perhaps I ought not to worry,” she was teasing her now, playing with her like she played with prey in dragon form.

“I resent that,” Regina scowled, before filling her mouth with as much of the mediocre wine as she could. If this was the way tonight was going to go, it was going to be a quantity-over-quality situation. 

“Noted.”

“I’m sorry, Mal,” the Mayor spoke more solemnly than their previous banter. 

“I’m not,” the blonde truthfully responded, “I knew full when I approached you at that party that you were completely in love with her. That's likely the only reason I felt comfortable approaching you in the first place. I will always care for you, pet, but what we once had has slipped away with time. It was never going to be the same. I just want you to be happy again. I knew what I was getting into. So no harm, no foul.”

Regina chuckled wetly through unshed tears, “Since when do you know anything basketball?”

Mal cracked a smile, “Well, one has to find ways to keep entertained between the annual upheaval.”

“Can I at least buy you a drink?” Regina asked.

“Since I’ve been putting up with you for over fifty years, I think you can buy me more than one,” Mal said with affection.

“Noted,” Regina repeated Mal’s earlier statement, and both smiled warmly. They were going to be just fine. 

“Regina!” a lilting voice called from across the diner, waving them over and breaking their moment. 

“Zelena? What are you doing here alone? Where’s Robyn?”

“Ashley offered to watch her and Neal so we could have a night off,” Snow interjected, leaning backwards over the divider between the two booths. Regina hadn’t even noticed the Charming’s were having their date night, but seeing as the whole town seemed to be in Granny’s diner tonight, she was hardly surprised. 

“And I am here alone, enjoying my moment of peace and trying to make my way through all Granny’s scotch.”

“Okay, well maybe you should go steady on the scotch,” Regina picked up the bottle and swirled its meagre contents around, “You’re slurring your words.”

“That’s just the accent, darling,” Zelena said with a flourish, but the effect was somewhat ruined by an unmistakable hiccup, “Just got to pop to the loo. But feel free to use the table if you’re still waiting on yours.”

Mal sniffed at the bottle, tilting her head and raising her eyebrows in approval, before nodding and slipping into the booth. Regina went to follow her, but something stopped her.

Her fingernails scraped at the cold metal of the table, needing the support as her legs wobbled. It felt like an ice-cold hand was gripping her heart and the air was heavy with static, burning and shocking her skin. Her magic was tingling beneath the surface, whipped into a flurry of panic and she was flooded with fear. Everything just felt wrong, but it was brief and as suddenly as it arrived, it faded.

“What the hell was that?” She whispered, shaking off the aftershocks. She looked back to Mal, who had lept to her feet after only just sitting down. The smile was gone from her face and her eyes were set in focus. 

“Woah,” Lilly said, staggering over from where she was leaning against the jukebox. Henry stood next to her, looking relatively unperturbed beyond basic confusion, “You guys felt that, right?”

“Of course,” Mal nodded, looking slowly around the diner and avoiding Regina’s questioning gaze, “I’ve been bothered by these tremors for almost a week.”  
  
“Seriously? That is what you’ve been sensing? That’s the disturbance?” Regina asked, blinking at her, “Wow, you really downplayed it.”

“I did no such thing, Regina,” Mal said, taking long strides to the window and parting the blinds to look outside, calculating blue eyes scanning the sidewalk for any abnormality, “It’s never been that intense before.”

The sound of clunking block heels scraping across linoleum from the back pulled their conversation to the hall behind the diner, where Zelena came running back in. She looked as worried as Regina felt, ginger hair in a frizz and eyes wide. 

“Okay, you will not believe what just happened while I was in the loo!”

“This better be about magic, or I don’t want to know...” Henry muttered under his breath, and Regina sent him a reprimanding look.

“It appears anyone with magical connection picked up on it,” Mal said looking around the room at the mostly undisturbed diners. Ruby, who was looking strangely at them and sniffing the air, had likely felt something, but everyone else seemed wholly unbothered. 

“Are you going to finally tell me what’s going on then?” Regina said, putting her hands on her hips, “Because I know you’ve been keeping something from me. Come on Mal, I helped you cast that spell to try and figure this out. Why aren’t you telling me?”

The dragon sorceress considered, rolling the side of her lip. “I think,” Mal spoke slowly, “Perhaps you should call Emma.”

“Emma?” David asked, interrupting their not-so-private conversation. The other occupants were regarding them with anxious interest. Not that Regina could blame them for worrying, the group did have a record for trouble, “What does this have to do with Emma?”

“Yes, I’d like to know the same thing,” Regina turned to Mal, not acknowledging how her gut twisted in fear. 

However before she could answer, a gaggle of grating high-pitched voices interrupted whatever the blonde witch was going to say. Snow and Charming’s jaws dropped in matching expressions and Regina blinked in disbelief at the overly colourful assault on the senses the newest addition to the diner made, squeaking in panic and running around in rainbow tights and bell-covered slippers.

“Uh, Mom?” Henry asked, tugging on Regina’s sleeve, “What are those?”

“Ugh, not munchkins!” Zelena complained with an over the top roll of her eyes. Making a drama of dropping into the booth next to Henry she smashed her forehead against the table before groaning, “I hate munchkins. Could this day get any worse?”

“Munchkins?” Regina turned to look at Mal, “What are Munchkins doing in Storybrooke?”

“Must have got here the same way I did,” Ruby said, cutting in. 

“Can we send them back? Like ASAP. I can’t cope with Munchkins. Especially since Regina set down the whole ‘ _not allowed to murder anymore_ ’ rules,” Zelena said pitifully from the booth, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Ignoring her sister, Regina turned back to Mal, “Do these - things - have to do with Emma, too? Does she have something to do with how Ruby got here too?”

Pursing her lips, blue eyes met her questioning gaze, Mal's voice was calm and collected as it always was, “Well that was my going theory. I’m not quite certain.”

“Why are you so insistent on keeping this from me?” Regina said hotly, agitation masking her foreboding. Mal just sighed, shaking her head. 

“Emma asked me too. I was in her head, Regina. I understand how she feels about this and why she wouldn’t want me telling you,” Mal said, and Regina was taken aback by how melancholy her fiend looked. As if she was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, “I guess some would say I understand better than anyone. So when I promised her I wouldn’t say anything, she trusted me with what is going on she did so in confidence.”

“Confidence be damned! What’s happening to her?!” Regina demanded, started to go a little mad with worry, “Please, Mal. It can’t be worse than what I’m imagining.”

"Ask her," she was firm.

“Well then, we should go check on her,” Snow suggested.

“She said she was going back to the house after work,” David supplied.

Regina felt a little shake through her legs, which - _No that can't be right,_ she thought. Yes, she knew she was worried, but there was no need to collapse. It appeared she wasn’t the only one who was feeling something strange, people were looking around warily or getting to their feet. Something was wrong. 

“Okay, I’m definitely feeling this one,” Henry said, stepping up to his mother on shaky feet. 

“Foreshocks,” Mal whispered, before shouting “Everyone get under the tables!” 

Before any of the unsuspecting citizens of Storybrooke (who by this point should have expected that it was too much to ask to have one quiet evening out without a town-wide catastrophe) could react, an alrighty rumbling ripped through the town. The ground rocked beneath them, plastic flatware falling to the floor and bottles of ketchup and beer fell smashed across the tiles. With all disasters in Storybrooke came - 

“ _EARTHQUAKE_!” Leroy shouted, bursting through the door and alerting the town to the impending disaster, as was his self-imposed duty. As if to support his statement, a power line chose that moment to tip into the street, plunging the diner into darkness and its occupants into chaos. Chairs scraping in the darkness and shouts of dismay mingled with smashing celery and a very annoyed Granny shouting " _So much for relaxed dining atmosphere!_ " Cacophony swarmed around them even when the shaking slowed. 

“Everyone Stop! Stay calm!” David’s voice cut through the ruckus, and in the dim light Regina could see he had climbed onto one of the tables. 

“Everyone make your way calmly home,” Regina said, accepting David’s hand to help her stand next to him on the table and fulfil her role as Mayor, “Anyone who does not have a flashlight on their phone, I’m sure Granny would be happy to lend you one from the emergency stock. Someone from town hall will be around to check on each household. If your home is uninhabitable, the town will put you up in a room here, or stay with your neighbours. Ruby, can you organise that?”

Ruby nodded, and started directing people out the door. 

“We have to get to Emma,” Regina said firmly, once there was some sort of order restored. She raised her palms, twisted her fingers and her signature billow of violet smoke swirled around her. But when it disappeared, she hadn’t moved still looking into the half-darkness of the diner. 

“What the hell?!” She cursed, trying again and again but despite her efforts, each time the haze cleared there was no Emma. Just the remaining occupants of Granny’s looking on in confusion. She tried to summon a fireball but managed nothing more than a few small sparks and a pitiful whisper of smoke. “Of all the day’s not to bring the car,” Regina cursed, anxiety beginning to get the better of her. Emma had driven her to work as promised and she’d walked straight here. 

“Let me try,” Mal pulled her staff out from the umbrella stand, tapped it on the ground. Her eyes flashed briefly, indicating that she was trying to transform, but, as with Regina, nothing happened. The crystal orb at the top of her staff faded from a bright glow to nothing more than a faint flicker, “I can’t transform.”

“Me neither,” Lily said, “Does that mean all the magic has gone?”

“No, it’s not gone,” Mal said, trying again and only being rewarded with a swirl of slate grey mist for her efforts, “It’s just...shifting. It’s different.”

“What does that even mean?” Zelena asked, turning to look at Regina who had given up on trying to conjure any sort of magic and was already fishing in her purse, pulling things out haphazardly until she grabbed her phone. She easily found Emma’s number even with shaking fingers and pressed the phone to her ear.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” Regina whispered, stepping away from where Zelena and Mal were throwing around theories. She let out a small breath of relief when the ringing was interrupted, but it was short-lived when more chaotic cacophony reached her ear.

“Regina?” Emma’s voice was meek against the ear-splitting din that came out of the small speaker in her phone. The fear Regina heard in her voice was enough for her to know that Emma was not okay and her heart sunk. The icy grip on her heart was back, but it had nothing to do with disturbances or magic and everything to do with the desperate plea of a strong woman. 

“Emma! Emma, what’s going on?! What’s that noise?” She asked, pulling open the door of the diner and starting down the street, not taking notice of her family and friends' gaze. Maybe she couldn’t teleport, she could still run. 

“I need - “ her voice was small and tired and Regina’s pace picked up as she made her way down the stairs of Granny’s. 

“What? What do you need? Emma, hold on, I’m on my way,” Regina said, turning the corner and wishing desperately she had worn more appropriate footwear. 

“I need you.” There was a clatter, that sounded like Emma had dropped her phone. She listened to the sounds of destruction, shouting into the phone for Emma to respond, but got nothing in return. 

“Damn it!” She cursed, ending the call and shoving the device into her pocket, before running her hand through her hair in frustration. 

“Mom, hold on! What happened?” She paused at Henry’s voice, turning to see the rather large group that had followed her out the diner. Finally, she took a second to take in the havoc that was Main Street. Large cracks and chasms had ripped through the roads, telephone poles and uprooted trees littered the sidewalks and had crashed into buildings. No cars were braving the wreckage. She really was going to have to run the few miles to Emma’s in stilettos, wasn’t she?

“We have to help her. I don’t think she’s okay,” Regina said, turning again to continue to run down the road, heels be damned.

“Regina wait,” David called, grabbing her wrist and she turned to glare at him. The sea of faces that held just as much worry as her own stopped her, and she held her tongue. “Look, her house is the other side of town. I’ll go get the truck, I can be back in fifteen minutes.”

“No! We need to get there now! You didn’t hear her David, something’s wrong. She needs me - us.” Regina would normally be more controlled in her emotions, but she was desperate with fear and she didn’t care who saw. He put a sympathetic hand on her back, and Regina sighed in defeat. 

“Well seeing as magic teleportation and the dragon bus are running a reduced service, we don’t have any other options” He said sarcastically, ignoring the death glare sent his way by Maleficent for being referred to as the ‘dragon bus.’ 

“Mom, look,” Henry said, pointing to the only car that was braving the wrecked roads, bumping over chinks of dislodged cement and crunching over falling branches. Regina’s eyes widened in recognition, the writing the side of the cruiser read Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department.

“Hey! _HEY_!” She shouted as she stepped over the rubble into the street, arms over her head waving frantically, not caring if she looked like an idiot. The cruiser slowed to a stop, and Mulan stepped out looking confused at the rag-tag group that was racing towards her.

“I should have known,” She said, folding her arms and leaning against the body of the car and laughing, “What is it with you guys? Can’t keep out of trouble for very long, can you?”

“I need you to drive us to Emma’s house,” Regina said, ignoring the warrior’s sarcasm. 

“Why? Trees are falling over all over the place and people are in a panic. I should really be here in town centre.”

“That's a direct order from the Mayor, deputy,” Regina threatened. Mulan just raised her eyebrows at her, and Regina cursed the fact that her threats didn’t seem very threatening these days. Prince Charming came to her rescue, calmly explaining the situation to Mulan and ushering everyone into the car. 

“I’m pretty sure this is illegal,” Mulan said, looking in the rearview at the back seat where Henry, David, Mal, Lily and Zelena were crammed into a space that was only really suited for three. 

Regina slid into the front seat sharing the seat with Snow, “Just drive.”

“Yeah, and quickly” Lily complained, from where she was squished between the door and Zelena, who was making her distaste obvious on her face. At least she looks less upset than Mal, who looked like she was contemplating murder, and it was no small estimate to her affection for Regina that she was putting up with this situation at all.

“Damn,” Mulan said under her breath as they turned the corner. The smell of burning wood and electrical fire filled the cruiser through the air-conditioning before the remains of what had been Emma and Hook’s house came into view, but that didn't make it any less shocking. 

“Oh my god, Emma,” Regina whispered, gasping and releasing her bottom lip from her teeth where she had been worrying it the entire drive.

“Regina...” Snow’s shaking hand gripped hers, eye’s wide at the smoking heap of rubble that had once been a house. Regina gulped at the sight, squeezing back. 

The door was open and Jimmy Choo stilettos hit the concrete before the cruiser had slowed to a stop. The pile of wreckage smouldered in the wind and loomed menacingly between the other untouched properties, dark and ominous, but Regina was running in any way. It wasn't like Emma hadn't saved her from a burning building before. She scrabbled over the white splintered timber of the fallen fence, her shoes crunching and slipping through the glass of blown-out windows. 

“Emma! Emma, answer me right now!” She shouted into the wind, running up the paved path where there used to be steps that let up the porch. Now it was nothing but a pile of soft rotting wood and ash. She shouted again, “Emma!” 

“Regina, Snow! Hold on!” Mulan yelled from the cruiser, running up behind them as the rest of the group struggled to disentangle themselves out of the back of the car, “We don’t know the damage done to the foundation. One wrong step and you could plummet into the basement.”

“Okay,” Snow said, jogging up to Regina’s side and taking charge after one look at the distraught mayor, “Okay. Split up. Search carefully.”

“Over here!” David yelled, after what felt like an age, lifting the door and Regina’s heart stopped in her chest. Emma looked so small in David’s arms, she was coated in dust and soot and, although David had shouted that she was breathing, Regina couldn’t help but think she was looking at a corpse. Her knees hit the concrete with a crack when David lowered her onto the only clean patch of grass, but she didn’t care, frantic hands skating over the Saviour looking for injury. 

“Emma. Emma, please say something,” she pleaded, pushing tangled and dirty blonde hair from her face and picking the larger pieces of plaster from her scalp. A small trickle of blood ran down the side of her forehead, her skin was too pale and her breathing was shallow. She hovered her hand above the cut on her forehead, her palm glowing purple for a second before fizzling out as the cut beneath continued to bleed. Regina gulped, “I can’t heal her! Mal! Mal, I need help!”

A pair of warm hands were on her shoulders, the dragon sorceress offering her support, “I cannot heal her with magic any more than you can.”

“Put her on her side,” Mulan said, taking the flashlight off her belt and checking her pupils for a reaction before helping David ease her into the recovery position, “No concussion, at least nothing major. The cut is superficial. Besides some moderate smoke inhalation and a few bruises, It looks like she’s just asleep.”

“I may not have much control, but I can still sense a huge magical presence,” Mal nodded, “I think it’s probably safe to assume she overexerted herself.”

As Regina’s hand touched the pale cheek, the ground shuddered again. Those that were standing braced themselves or knelt to the ground. Another large tree fell through the last remaining posts of the battered white-picket fence and collided with the ground. Audible gasps cut through the grumbling tremor, the group watching in horror as the trunk smashed onto the roof of Emma’s beloved yellow bug. Regina didn’t even register that the quaking had stopped, she was too wrapped up in trying not to cry over the warped remains of the car’s frame. As the shocks faded, everyone breathed a small sigh of relief until a deafening roar filled the air.

“ _You have got be kidding_. What now?” Zelena griped, dusting ash from her skirt and looking up and down the empty street. 

“Holy shit!” Lily gasped, pointing to the sky where a golden and red serpent wove through purple clouds. 

“The Dragon? But he should still be in the mirror world?” Henry asked, shuddering at the not so pleasant memory of their last encounter. 

“Great, so we have a Dragon on the loose. Maybe he will eat the munchkins,” Zelena schemed. 

“Zelena! Now is not the time!” Regina snapped. 

“That's a problem for later,” Mal waved her off, before looking to where Regina was cradling Emma’s hands, “Right now we need to figure out how to stop the Saviour from letting in any more unexpected visitors.”

“How can she still be doing this if she’s unconscious?” Regina frantically asked.

“Emma herself is not actually doing anything. She may have tore the house down, but I don’t think the earthquake and the appearances are directly her,” Mal clarified, crouching down next to them and spreading her long fingers over Emma’s forehead in an attempt to discern the extent of her damage, but her magic just fizzed uselessly. At the faint glow of magic, Mary Margret looked nervously between her daughter and the dragon sorceress, concern evident across her usually hopeful face.

“Regina?” 

“It’s okay,” Regina tried to console her, knowing that seeing Mal leaning over Emma would likely strike fear in the princess’s heart considering their history, “What do you mean she’s not doing it.”

“Storybrooke is responding to her magic, she has no control over what that reaction entails. I'd bet that's why she's unconscious too, it likely took it all out of her. Little bursts caused by brief moments of high emotion weren’t that dangerous, but this...”

Suddenly it clicked in Regina’s head, “Emma’s magic and Storybrooke are connected! Of course, and she’s been struggling recently with control.”

“So Ruby, the munchkins and now the dragon? They got here because of Emma?” Mary Margret asked, disbelieving. 

Mal nodded, “Precisely. Ruby arrived when Emma and I were training in the woods. I may have purposefully antagonised her - trying to get a reaction to judge the scale of what was going on,” Regina sent her a disapproving stare, “Don’t look at me like that, pet. I did what I had to do and it worked, I just didn’t realise how well until you called me later to tell me Ruby had appeared in town.”

“You knew that was Emma? And you didn’t think to tell me!” Regina shouted.

“Emma asked me not to tell you for...various reasons,” Mal continued, diplomatically, placing a hand on Regina’s shoulder, “I didn’t think it would get quite this out of hand.”

“But, wait, it’s still not clear. How?” Henry asked, interrupting before things could escalate “It would make sense if Ma was accidentally opening portals, but there haven’t been any portals?”

“I have a theory, but it’s not good,” Mal said, “Imagine all the realms like different rooms of a house. Now, provided the house is sturdy and built correctly, you can only get from one room to another through a door - or a portal in this case. But if all the magic insulation and pretty plaster finish that makes up those walls disappears, you could just as easily walk through the stud frames from one room to the next with little need for a door.”

“I don’t like where this going - “

“That's because if this continues unchecked Storybrooke will be no better off than the charred remains of the house we’re standing in.”

Regina looked to Mal, eyes pleading and they tugged at the blonde’s heartstrings, “Mal, what do we do?”

“Take her across the town line,” Mal advised. 

“And that will stop all this?” Regina gestured to the sky above, where dark thunderous clouds loomed ever closer.

“No. No we will still have to stabilize Storybrooke’s magic, and close up these gaps in the walls between realms. But Emma being here is a liability. Magic is still here, but as it has been rearranged and we need to find out how to navigate it without Emma reshuffling the deck again. Also, I'm not sure it's worth taking the risk of her being repeatedly drained like this. We don't know just how draining these reactions could get, we wouldn't want the magic taking too much of her lifeforce.”

“Okay,” Regina agreed, nodding slowly and sent a devastating look at Emma, filled with sorrow as if she missed her already. The threat to Emma's safety had been enough to convince her, but she did remember how it had taken her a while after the breaking of the first curse to get back in touch with her magic. That had been hard enough without it changing constantly, “Whose going to take her?”

Three pairs of eyebrows shot up in surprise at the question. 

“You are, dear,” Mal spoke as if it were obvious.

“What? Mal, the town is falling apart, I’m the Mayor. I need to stay and help -“

“Mom, you should go with her,” Henry interrupted, taking her hand in his and giving in an encouraging squeeze. 

“Snow,” Regina looked to her Step-daughter as if asking for permission.

“They’re right, Regina. As much as I want to be there for my daughter, she’ll want you,” Snow was giving her a very knowing look, and their obvious support was overwhelming.

“Okay. Okay, we’ll go tonight. Henry,” Regina reached into her pocket before shoving her keys in the sixteen-year-olds hands, “Go get the Mercedes. Take Zelena, she can help you pack a bag for Emma and I.”

“But you said I’m not allowed to drive the - “

“Just this once,” She said, “And drive carefully, the roads are a mess. Five miles under the limit the whole way here, you understand?”

“I could drive,” Zelena offered gleefully. 

“Absolutely not!” Regina said. She would never let her sister near her precious car even if she hadn’t just drained a bottle of scotch, “Henry, Zelena is not to touch the car. Don’t let her break anything in the house either.”

“It’s fine, Henry,” Zelena whispered, “We’d just blame it on the earthquake.” Henry nodded at his mother before pulling Zelena out of harm's way and tearing down the street, running in the direction of home. 

“You’ll figure this out?” Regina asked pointing to the her ex-lover, voice cracking a little in desperation.

“Of course,” Mal soothed, “I’ll call you when I know more. I won’t let your tiny little town fall apart... as entertaining as it would be.”

“You better not,” Regina said, giving her a pointed look, before a small sad smile graced her lips, and she ducked her gaze, “Thank you, Mal. For everything.”

It felt like an age until they heard the sound of slow tires over grit signalling Henry’s return. He leapt out of the car, while Zelena un-elegantly staggered out the passenger side.

“Wow, I really thought she was going to be sick...” Henry said, looking back to his aunt, who was fanning herself with her hand and draping herself dramatically against the door. Regina just rolled her eyes, but didn’t respond as she was too distracted by David who was carrying a still very limp Emma to the car, “Okay, bags are in the trunk. Keys are here,” he thrust out the keyring and brushed off her thanks with an uncharacteristic shrug.

“Henry? Hey, it’s going to be okay,” She reached out, furrowing her eyebrows in concern and rubbing his upper arms as she tried to catch his eye, “Emma is a tough one. She’ll be alright.”

He nodded, just pushing her down the path to the car, where she did a once over of the trunks contents, as Charming and Snow tucked Emma into the passenger seat, buckling her in. Regina took one of her spare coats from the back and used it to cover Emma’s frame, closing the door and rounding the vehicle to leave. It was all happening so fast and she was moving in a daze and she didn’t even know where she was going to go. A hotel? Did they simply get a tent and camp outside the town line? But they didn’t know how long they were going to be gone for.

“Wait, Mom!” Henry shouted, pulling something from the wreckage of the Volkswagen, “You can’t go without this.”

“Thank you,“ Regina took the red leather jacket from Henry with a smile and a final hug. She folded it and went to deposit it in the trunk, but a jangling weight in the pocket drew her attention. Fishing in the pocket, and cringing fondly and the candy wrappers, her hand wrapped around the cool metal and she knew they were going to be okay. She knew where they were going. “Thank you, indeed, Henry,” she repeated to herself, pocketing the item and getting into the car. A small whine of pain from her passenger seat had Regina halt her preparations. 

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m here,” Regina reached across the controls, pulling her coat up to Emma’s chin and the blonde stopped her thrashing. Smiling softly, she shut the door with a click, and turned the keys in the ignition, rolling down the window.

“Call us. Tell us how she is and where you are,” Snow said.

“Okay. I have an idea where to go, but I’ll call and confirm,” Regina nodded, before looking to Henry, feeling terrible for leaving him behind, “If it gets any worse or any more dangerous here, I’m putting Snow in charge of getting Henry on a bus. He can meet us.”

“Mom, I’ll be fine,” Henry said, shaking his head, “Maybe my author powers can help sort things out.”

“Besides, I don’t think it gets more dangerous than the nighttime greyhound service to New York,” Lily added.

Looking at the ragtag group that had come running to Emma's aid, Regina allowed herself a sigh of relief. As worried as she was, she knew she was leaving her son in good hands. She nodded, exhaled slowly, and pulled the car out into the road. She heard Snow let out a little groan of worry, and watched in her wing mirror as her son wrapped her in a one-armed hug.

“They’ll be okay,” Henry said, “Saving each other is kind of what they do.”

\--

Mal stood in the middle of the road, watching the black car disappear from view. Beside her, Lily stood dutifully next to her mother, a comforting hand on her shoulder. She was not privy to every detail of what had gone on between Maleficent and the former Evil Queen, but she got the general idea. 

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

Mal turned to her, not noticing the click of heels approaching them “You, my darling, are the only love I need in my life.”

“Still I wish I could help,” Lily said, taking in the sadness in her mother’s eyes.

“You do, Lily,” She pulled her into a hug, “You do.”

“I hate to break up the family moment, darlings,” A familiar voice spoke from behind them. Mother and daughter turned, wide-eyed to take in the excessive fur and leather-clad figure making their way out of the shadows and into the lamplight.

“No, it can’t be...” Mal uttered. Breaking down the barriers between realms of the living was one thing, but this -

“Be a dear and pour us a round of G&Ts, Mal,” Cruella said, “Because we have a problem.”


	8. House on Fire - Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **T/W: Attempted Rape, Rape Aftermath, Violence, Non-consensual drug use**
> 
> Pretty intense from start to finish, so tread carefullly. 
> 
> \--
> 
> SO SO SORRY for the delay, folks, work has killed me a little bit, and I haven't had a day off in almost two weeks so that's why this has taken so LONG. It doesn't help that this is actually quite a long chapter, hence the split, and I couldn't help but add back bits that I cut from it (I was pretty upfront about being self-indulgent with word count). To give you an idea as to why this is taking so damn long when I first started posting chapters the draft I was working off was barely 70k and I've already blown past that. So yeah, that's where we're at.
> 
> I also found this chapter the hardest to write so far, so a little confused about how it ended up taking on a life of its own and covered so much ground. This is pretty raw, uncharted territory writing-wise for me, so would love to know what you think! 
> 
> But, on the bright side, one of my many projects finishes tomorrow so I should be back to being much faster! Hurrah.
> 
> The Song inspo is still House on Fire, by Sia, as this was originally part of the last chapter. This chapter will also be the last of the past stories, as we got problems in the present to deal with now! (Just when you thought there couldn't be any more problems...)
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me! Honestly, the comments and kudos have kept me going through my crazy workload! Thank you all for sticking with me! Honestly, the comments and kudos have kept me going through my crazy workload! Xx
> 
> P.S. I feel the need to clarify that I'm not trying to push the agenda that sex work is in any way less or dirty profession. Leopold is just a massive wanker and a total sleezebag so really the description of the Gentleman's Club is meant to reflect badly on him, not the industry.

**PAST**

“What the - ?” She swore under her breath, white haze disappearing into the fog that lingered over Main Street.

Emma blinked in surprise, it had been a while since she had poofed and not ended up in the location she intended. Brushing it off, she thought that perhaps it was just because she had never been in the ratty building before that she ended up outside of it instead of inside. The neon sign sizzled and flickered for The Crowned Head: Kings’ Gentleman Club. Tacky paint and peeling stickers coated in graffiti expertly hid the door in the daylight, the protective iron cage front rusted. It was the type of place she’d expect to see in Hunt’s Point in the Bronx, stoop littered with needles and soaked n booze, vomit and urine, not on Main Street in quaint little Storybrooke. 

Unsettled and agitated with barely contained panic, she thought little of her teleportation mishap and pushed aside the iron grate. The door was locked, but in such bad shape that a few h

“Regina?” She called out into the dim corridor, there was no response. The only light cast a silhouette of a lone figure sat behind the desk of a cubicle. A knights helm rested lopsided on his head, and he was rocking to the distorted sound of music that came up from the floor. She made her way forward towards him, seeing the staircase the went down into what must be the main room of the club, “Hey, you. I’m looking for someone. Stephan? Leopold? They had a woman with them?”

“Yeah, I saw her. The Queen,” he said, no meeting her gaze, just looking her up and down. Emma’s skin crawled and she bit her tongue, and focused on how her heart jumped in her chest hearing that someone had seen Regina.

“How long ago?” She tried not to sound as desperate as she felt, and was thankful for how the single lightbulb obscured what must have been a very panic-stricken face.

“A while,” the knight said, sucking his teeth and sizing Emma up, “She didn’t look too great. Took two of them to carry her in. It’s been a while since I’ve seen that much blood, but the living do bleed so much better than the dead.”

“Where did they go? Are they still here?” Emma growled, attempting to flip up the counter and get past the sorry excuse for a bouncer.

“Sorry, sweet-cheeks. Can’t let you in. Royalty or working girls only,” the knight spoke, not getting up from his seat in the cloakroom as his feet kicked up to rest on the counter keeping it firmly in place and putting a threatening hand on the hilt of his sword. Emma waved her hand and focused her eyes, expecting him to go skating backwards with a magical blast. He didn’t, just sat unmovingly and grinning in his chair laughing, “Magic won’t work in here, love.” 

_Ah_.

That explained the magical teleportation that landed her outside. It also meant, Emma realised as her stomach sank, Regina wouldn’t have magic either. _Fuck_ , she needed to hurry. 

“Fine by me,” Emma said, rolling her shoulders. Finally, an outlet for the oppressing anxiety she had been boiling in all night, “I can do the old fashioned way.” 

In a quick lunge, she scaled the counter, her fist making contact with the knight's jaw. He tumbled backwards and the folding chair beneath him collapsed with a metal scrape the proceeded the crash of costume armour and jangling keys. Before he could get to his feet, Emma had grabbed the sword from his waist, pulling it from the sheath that was attached to his belt next to a heavy flashlight, handcuffs and an enormous ring of keys. With a final swift kick to keep him in place, Emma finally darted past the shouting bouncer and started descending the steps. 

Cigar smoke clung to the plush velvet walls and hung in a heavy, motionless cloud. Emma grimaced and coughed, her throat constricting at the stench, and eyes burning as they struggled to see through the haze. Despite the morning daylight outside, the club was full of people. The clack of billiards came from the corner of the room where people were gambling. Wordless music thumped in a repetitive beat interrupted by loud cheers from the gambling table and clinking of bottles and glasses behind the bar. It was easy to discern the patrons from the people who worked there, women in tight dresses and scanty costumes who grimace as unwanted hands paw at them. Through the flashing lights and thick smoke, her eyes landed on the face she was looking for, identical to the grainy photograph David had uncovered in the loft. 

“Hey! Stephan,’ She shouted, and the group around him stopped their conversation. One of the working girls, slid off her perch on the table, as Emma marched to the corner.

“And just who are you, Sweetheart?” Stephan made little effort to hide his lecherous stare, “Looking to apply for a job?”

“I’m not here for a job,” Emma leaned menacingly across the table, fists clenching as she stared down at the man responsible for the mess in the mayor's office, “I’m here for Regina. Where is she?”

“Name doesn’t ring a bell,” He said, leaning back in his chair and swirling his drink, pretending to be distracted by the clinking of ice. 

“Like hell, it doesn’t! Tell me what you did with her?”

“Oh, you mean the Evil Queen? So that would make you the latest in her line of blonde guard dogs - Or dragons,” He said, squinting his eyes over the rim of a crystal cut tumbler before taking a long drag from his cigar. His voice was obnoxiously superior, “I must say, you’re much less threatening than the last one. How is Maleficent? Hopefully burning in hell, but seeing as she’s not here, I guess that would be too much to wish for.”

“Maleficent? What the hell does she have to do with this?”

“That scaled witch burned me to death for getting a little too close to her precious Queen,” he leered before taking the last puff of his cigar and stubbing it out on the surface of the table, leaving a burn mark. 

“Remind me to send her a thank you card when I get back,” Emma muttered under her breath, fury sparking and seething and the King’s implications but forcing herself to stay calm, “And I’m seconds away from following her example if you don’t tell me what you’ve done with her. I know it was you, we found your crown in her office. I should kick your teeth in - ”

“Unfortunately,” King Stephan glared, cutting her off “Seeing as Maleficent already killed me, you have no leverage to make me tell you anything.”

It took only a moment for Emma to consider her options. In a flash she pushed aside the table, sending glasses, cards and poker chips scattering across the floor and drawing the attention of some of the other patrons who looked on with mild interest. Neighbouring patrons sprang to their feet in alarm as their drinks spilt into their laps but from the unsurprised looks on their faces, it was obvious public brawls were a fairly common occurrence. She jumped into the space the table used to be, dropping the sword to grab the top of his chest plate, lift him from his seat and slam the royal into the wall. She pressed her forearm against his throat, and although he may not technically need to breathe, she could tell she was causing a decent amount of discomfort.

“I may not be able to hurt you, but I bet if we were to take a quick trip that fun pit of fire that decided if you get to go to a better place or a worse now...Well I think we both where scum like you would end up,” she pushed her arm tighter, crushing the windpipes beneath. He was panting for air, but despite his compromising position looked wholly unthreatened. 

It fuelled the fire of anger in Emma’s stomach, like dry kindling on a bonfire, crackling and popping in hot summer air. 

“I’ll take my chances.“ 

“ _Damn you_ \- “

“Excuse me,” a soft voice interrupted them, and Emma turned. A woman dressed in a revealing uniform had left her position behind the bar and was timidly trying to get the Saviours attention, “I think I can help. You’re looking for Regina?”

“Shut up, wench, or we’ll make your time here worse than hell,” Stephan threatened.

“This is already hell,” the woman spoke, gaining more meagre confidence as she stepped forward and crossed her arms. Emma could tell by the way her hands shook that this was probably the first act of defiance she had ever made, “But if I help you, maybe I can get rid of my unfinished business - move on. If not...well, it would certainly do me good to know I may have finally been able to help Her Majesty in a way that matters.”

“You - you knew Regina?” Emma asked, releasing Stephan and picking up the sword from the floor. The king picked up on the passive threat and stayed back, wiping his drink from his front and rubbing his neck.

“I was one of her ladies maids, ma’am. It never sat right with me, a girl that young - but I had a family to feed and speaking out against the ways of the kingdom was punishable by death.”

“If that was your job, and you hated it so much...Why work in a place like this?”

“This is purgatory, ma’am. Some girls want to be here, and that’s fine, but the rest of us...we don’t get a lot of say over what we do or where we go or where we work. So now I’m forced to serve drinks these bastards, instead of slipping them in comfort to the woman who they objectify -“ she hung her head, looking at the floor out of habit and not meeting Emma’s eyes, “Perhaps...perhaps I deserve it.”

Emma shook her head, “No one deserves this, and I'm sure you didn't have a choice. You’d be doing the right thing by helping her now.”

The maid nodded, “There’s a secret staircase, in the back behind the bar - “

“Don’t say anything else - “ Stephan tried to intimidate her again, but she stood her ground, confidence blooming in front of Emma's eyes. She had even mustered enough to send a discouraging glare to where King Stephan was attempting to pull himself to his feet.

“Her Majesty is upstairs, the third floor in the V.I.P lounge,” the maid said, “Now, go quickly. And be careful.”

Knocking past the rope barrier, she hurried up the dark steps, grimacing in disgust as her hand brushed against the crusty velvet walls. Neon signs littered the walls, pointing arrows signalling the way to ‘ _Stripteases_ ,’ or advertising ‘ _Rent this Room_ ,’ with a winking pin-up. But Emma just followed the steps up to the where they flashed ‘ _V.I.P Lounge_ ,’ twisting the doorknob and slipping through the black velvet curtains that lay beyond.

She almost didn’t recognise her. Deflated after doing a quick scan of the dark room, the only light filtering through the boarded-up windows, she was about to shut the curtains on what she imagined was just another private room. Her raven hair was longer than Emma had ever seen, it covered the majority of her face, tangled and matted with blood that effectively camouflaged Regina in the darkest corner of the room. The only thing that stopped her, causing her to double-take, was an achingly familiar eye peeking out from between the hair and blood. 

She took in the rest of her battered appearance, her heart sank at what she saw, falling through her stomach that was trying to claw its way out her throat. 

“Regina? Regina! Come on, please be alive,” Emma pleaded, tightening her grip on the handle of the sword she ran to the brunette's side. Her stomach filled with ice and her heart stopped, seeing the mother of her son and the woman she harboured so much love for in such a state, “Oh my god - Regina!”

“Emma? Is that really you?” Her voice was quiet, and she wasn’t looking at her, brown eyes unoccupied and empty in their stare. Even when the blonde reached out to tilt her head so she would look at her, she felt as if her gaze went right through her. 

“Jesus,” Emma muttered under her breath, getting a closer look at the brunette. Her pupils were impossibly wide and a milky purple film covered the black orbs. The shards of glass in her hair glinted and the stench of alcohol, blood and sex made Emma gag. Her searching gaze snagged on the bruises that wove like a mottled garland across exposed legs and the blood that was smeared between her thighs, and the volcanic fury in her gut threatened to erupt.

“Okay,” she said shakily, reassuring herself as much as she tried to reassure Regina, “ _Fucking hell, get it together Emma_. Okay, we’re going to get you out of here."

“We’ve already had this conversation,” the brunette said dreamily and delirious as she jangled the chain behind her back, her voice too high pitched and fairy-like and it didn’t sit right with Emma. Was she drunk? She certainly, stank of alcohol, but the saviour had a feeling that was coming from the lighter of the many stains on her dress, “I’m tied up, see? I can’t go.”

_Already had this conversation?_

Hallucinations, Emma thought. When she had first been promoted to sheriff she had read all sorts of procedural pamphlets, mostly in an attempt to prove the Mayor incorrect in her assumptions about her under-qualification. One of those had been on trauma and abuse survivors, and she remembered reading about dissociation and hallucinations being a frequent coping method. And if Regina _was_ drunk, the alcohol would have only fed welcomed mirages. 

Despite the pounding adrenaline in her veins, a cool calmness that came with being the sheriff in a crisis situation came over her. And in that clarity, she remembered the keyring that had been clipped to the bouncer’s belt. There were certainly smaller keys that looked like they could fit the binding. Mentally kicking herself for not grabbing them earlier, she tugged on the bindings to make sure they were truly secure and worth having to leave Regina’s side for. They didn’t budge.

“Okay, Regina, just hang on. I have to go grab something, but - Hey, listen to me, this is important. I’ll be right back.”

Sighing heavily, her head fell back against the wall with a thump and her eyes shut against what she thought was another tricksy vision. Regina mumbled, slurring her words, “You said that last time.”

“I’m coming back, I promise,” She whispered, heart clamping and she grabbed a cold hand and squeezing before running back to get the keys. The blonde was convinced she had never moved so quickly in her life, bounding the steps three at a time and shoving through the patrons of the club below. But apparently she hadn’t been quick enough because when she returned to the top floor, keys in hand, she could hear voices, and she knew Regina was no longer alone.

“Leopold, please,” her voice was light and gasping like it was too much effort to speak. Emma froze at the name of her grandfather, “Enough. I’m done - “

“You’re done when I say you’re done, sweet wife,” his voice made Emma’s skin crawl and she’d had enough of hiding in the shadows. Turning back into the room, Emma’s blood ran cold at what she saw. Regina looked just as lacklustre and as much like a rag doll as she had when Emma had left her, but she was pushing feebly with her legs at something. Or someone. 

“Be a good girl, open up,” he said yanking her ankles and leaning over her to crush his mouth onto her’s. The strangled groan Regina gave in return was enough to ignite Emma’s explosive anger, and she was done hiding in the shadows. The fuse that had been lit had burned to its end, and she was off like an explosive, bursting through the door. Rushing in before Leopold had a chance to look up she grabbed the collar of the man’s suit jacket and tugged. 

“GET THE HELL OFF HER!” Emma hollered, pulling at the coat until it was tangled around his forearms. She twisted the fabric to create a bind of her own and put all her strength into heaving his weight off Regina, who simply rolled onto her side away from the scene. 

“What the - ” He shouted, grunting in alarm at being forced backwards and finding his arms pinned behind his back and his face pressed in the dirt and dust, tiny flecks of splintered glass embedding themselves in his sweating face. The wooden block of the heel of a boot pressed into his back and the tip of a sword scratched at his beard. He glared up at Emma, clearly not believing he had been overpowered by a woman. 

“Get up!” She barked, furious and dangerous, “You fucking sick son of a bitch, I SAID GET UP!” 

“Who the hell are you?” He grunted, struggling to stand with his arms tied behind his back, grimacing at the irony that he had done the same thing to Regina a few hours before. When he finally managed to drag himself upright, he was met with a cold blade pressed into his neck and the most enraged eyes he’d ever seen. The Saviour was practically breathing fire and used the sword to guide the King to a chair. Keeping the sleeves of his jacket tightly constraining around his wrists, she bound him to the chair using the excess fabric, before returning to Regina’s side. 

“Regina! _Regina_ , please, look at me,” Emma pleaded, but Regina’s head just rolled to the side, gaze still vacant, “ _REGINA_!” She finally shouted and the brunette’s neck snapped up. 

“You’re back?” Regina asked, finally reflecting some recognition in her gaze, “I thought I dreamt you.”

“I’m here,” Emma said, reaching behind the brunette to try the keys on the lock, sighing in relief as she heard the binding click open. 

“Hnngg,” Regina moaned as her arms were finally free to fall back to their natural position after hours of being forced behind her back. The pain seemed to bring her out of her reverie, and the cloudy glaze that covered her eyes shifted. Her body, which had been terrifyingly uninhabited, came to life and she jerked in panic and gasped for breath. 

“Hey, breathe. Slowly. That’s it, in and out. Just listen to my voice, you’re okay. Don’t panic, its just me. It’s just Emma.”

“Hi Emma,” she repeated, not much more lucidly than before as she began slipping back into her state of motionlessness before disengaging totally once again. 

“Damn it, Regina, stay awake. _Please,_ Gina, stay awake!”

“Mmmmmm, trying, Emma,” she mumbled before her head fell forward again. 

“Emma?” Leopold echoed, interrupting from where he was fighting fruitlessly against being tied up with his own jacket, “So you must be my darling Snow’s daughter.”

“You bastard,” Emma ground out against clenched teeth, gripping the sword tightly and rising to her feet. 

“Don’t be nasty, child, that’s no way to treat family,” he chastised, and the look in his eyes full of hatred and Emma had a hard time reconciling the man before her with the one her mother spoke so highly of. She had an even harder time reconciling her own genetic connection to the monster that was goading her with such pride mere moments after trying to force her best friend. 

“Uh-uh, _you_ don’t get to talk about being nasty!” She threatened him with the blade again, “I don’t want to hear another word from you, you pig!”

“A King does not take orders from his granddaughter, girl,” He spoke with artificial kindness, “Now why don’t you come over here and let your grandfather see you. Tell me, how is your mother?”

“Keep my mother out of this,” Emma spat, “I don’t give a damn about being your granddaughter. Just because I have the misfortune of being related to you doesn’t mean I’m going to let you get away with - rape.”

“Rape? Oh, surely there’s no need to be so dramatic,” he chuckled, “Regina is my wife and mine to do what I please with.”

“Fuck you! That’s not how it works, you sick bastard!”

“Oh yeah?” he looked past Emma to the brunette who was trying again fight off the lull of dissociation, before slumping forward. Leopold rolled his eyes when Emma made to rush the woman's side again as she struggled to regain some form of consciousness, “Not to worry, child, it’s just the drugs.”

“Drugs?” Emma repeated, waving her hand in front of Regina’s eyes and getting no response, “What drugs?”

“Well, let’s just say she got a bit too _feisty_. They’ll fade off soon,” he waved her off, and his blasé attitude just infuriated the blonde further. He shouted at the motionless figure, “Come on, Regina, wake up so you can tell your friend what a great reunion we’ve been having.” 

“Don’t you fucking _talk to her_ ,” Emma said, stepping between them even though Regina seemed oblivious to her hero’s efforts, “Or I’ll slit your throat.”

“Go ahead. You can’t kill me,” he laughed and Emma had to remind herself to breathe because her anger had such a tight grip on her chest it felt there was no room for air. He was right. She couldn’t kill him. She couldn’t even hurt him. Not in a way that wouldn’t just heal over in time. Her lips tightened in a fierce frown and she seethed through her nose, trying to think of something she could do. _Anything_ that would make her feel better about what he had put the woman she loved through. 

But before she could come up with anything, she heard another small shuffle behind her and she turned to see Regina raising her head. Wordlessly, Regina looked up at her, a couple of tears slipping down her otherwise expressionless face.

“I’m here, Regina,” Emma said, dropping to a crouch before her again, “It’s okay we're going to get you out.”

Her voice broke through the clouds that Regina had allowed to float across her mind and flashing her in and out of consciousness like clouds drifting in front of the sun. Emma was really here. Her blurry world was crashing into shape with alarming clarity and little regard for how fragile her mind or body felt. The thought of Emma seeing her like this mixed with the spinning room and vertigo had her dry heaving. 

“ _Go_ ,” she finally croaked through her dry mouth that burned with acidic bile, and she mustered whatever energy she had to try to pull herself up but her arms gave way under her weight and her back spasmed in pain, leaving her gasping.

“I - What?” Emma said, shaking her head, convinced she hadn’t heard her right.

“Go, please. I don’t want you to see...“ Regina averted her eyes in shame as another tear followed the first down the damp path on her cheek, “Just _leave, please_.” 

“See, Emma, she wants you to leave us alone,” Leopold bargained from where he sat and the flames of rage licked to life again, “We have some thing’s to work out.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” Anger curled tighter than before, fuelled by the brunettes rejection and with little thought to the consequences she pressed the point of her stolen weapon into his gut, toying with how much pressure it would take to break the skin, “So why don’t you do us all a favour, stuff it and admit you’ve failed in whatever twisted revenge this is.”

“I shall fail when I have failed, and not a moment before. You’re still trapped down here, aren't you? And I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh Yeah? Think you’ll still feel like a big man when I fucking cut your balls off?” Pride filled her chest at the small slip of fear that crossed the King’s eyes. She closed in on him, sneering in his face as she pushed over the chair that she had tied him to, and he fell to the floor with a heavy thump of straining wood and bodyweight. A small glint of satisfaction flickered across her mind, reminding her of her time as the Dark One as she relished in pressing the toe of her boot into his jowl, “Whose afraid now? Tell me how it feels to be powerless?”

“Emma, stop,” Regina said, reaching out to grab her arm. She had managed to pull herself to her feet, but the effort of reaching out for Emma sent her falling back down, head woozy and the room spinning. It was enough to snap Emma out of her bloodthirsty need for vengeance. 

“Regina - “

“ _Enough_. Enough of all of this. I want to get out of here,” her voice was small, smaller than Emma had ever heard her and it cleared her mind. The blonde felt another feeble tug on her arm from where Regina had collapsed and was leaning heavily on the wall, “Emma, please. No more. Let’s go.”

Looking between the woman who she so desperately wanted to comfort and the pig of a man she wanted to castrate, it wasn’t even a debate in what urge won out. The writhing and spasming rage in her stomach finally gave way to the extinguishing concern. 

Remembering Regina was the priority was like a bucket of water, brisk and fresh from a garden hose, poured over a bed of coals and reducing her burning fury to gentle floating ash. 

“Of course, of course,” Emma dropped next to her, hands hovering but not touching, “We’re going right now. Can you stand up?”

More than one attempt of Regina trying to push herself up, trying to use the wall for support before crumpling back to the floor, left Emma’s heart cracked in her chest at the sight. Not being able to take anymore, she wrapped her arm around her and cringed at herself when Regina tensed beneath the touch. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled as she hoisted her up to her feet. Regina was regaining a little strength, but Emma was still planning on carrying her down the stairs until she could poof them away.

“Pathetic as ever, Regina,” the brunette snapped up her gaze to look at the incapacitated but still threatening king, “This isn’t over, I will get my - “

“You shut the fuck up,” Emma growled, and perhaps there were just a few red hot coals left to put up a fight. Pointing the sword at him with her spare arm, she glared fiercely and tightened her grip around Regina’s waist, “Don’t think I’m not coming back for you. Stay where you are, you piece of shit. Oh, and Leo, _be a good boy_.”

\--

Purgatory Mifflin Street looked the way everything else did in this twisted reality; run down, devoid of greenery and life, and perhaps littered with a little more rubble than was normal. But on the whole, recognisable. Shutters hung crooked on one hinge if they were still attached to the windows at all. Looking in, the curtains were blackened with mildew and, as had been the case with her parents’ apartment, the furniture was covered in white sheets, just waiting for Regina to move in. 

Emma pushed that thought from her mind, supporting the woman who leant heavily on her as they walked up the steps to the porch. Her gaze was slow beneath drooping eyelids, she hadn’t uttered a word since leaving that place and Emma was sure she was in shock. 

“We’re just going to rest here for a while, okay?” Emma said, and Regina continued to stare at the crumbling shell of her beloved mansion, “Regina? Is that alright with you?”

“Huh?” Regina asked, shifting her eyes to the Saviour but looking right through her. Emma’s heart broke at the empty gaze and her expressionless visage. 

“We need to get you cleaned up, but everyone is still at the apartment,” Emma said softly, and Regina just looked confused, “Hook was meant to come back today from recon in the forest with Robin. David and Henry are really worried about you and I didn’t think you’d want -

“Henry,” Regina repeated, a bit more awareness creeping into her detached voice, and her fingers tightened around the shoulder of Emma’s jacket, “He can’t see me like this.”

“Yeah, I thought that might be what you would say,” Emma murmured under her breath, “It’s going to be okay, we’ll get you sorted before having to face everyone. They’re all really worried about you.”

Regina just continued to stare off into space, jaw set firmly and not meeting Emma’s eyes.

“You know, it’s okay to need some time after something like this happens - “

“Nothing happened,” Regina said with as much firmness as she could muster, which wasn’t a lot, and certainly not enough to be convincing to the younger woman who knew her so well. She tried to shrug out of Emma’s supporting arm to prove a point but stumbled, and the blonde caught her elbows, holding her up.

“Easy,” Emma took over, summoning key’s to the mansion’s front door, “You’re going to be a bit shaky. He said he drugged you, do you...remember that?”

Regina shook her head, “I don’t - know?” It made sense. It would explain why her brain was so foggy and why she couldn’t remember much past waking up the second time with Leopold - she shook off the ghost of that memory. Even her rescue was still shrouded in a misty blur. 

_Oh god - How much had Emma seen_? Her heart constricted in fear at being so exposed to the woman she was secretly in love with. She shuddered, trying to squirm out of her caring friend's too-supportive and too-comforting grasp. It all felt wrong. 

“Okay, well I think you threw up the last of them,” Emma said, finally getting the door open, giving up on fumbling one-handedly with keys and trying to keep a hold of the brunette, who could barely hold herself up and was making it increasingly difficult. She opted instead for simply opening it with magic. 

It swung open with a low creak and the light from outside was reflected back at them a hundred times over from within the dark house. It took Emma a moment to realise what she was looking at, brain confused by the optical illusion that greeted them. Once cream walls were covered with mirrors or every shape and size, crammed so tightly they overlapped and left only a few inches of the painted wall peeking out from between their cluttered frames. 

“Okay, that’s new,” Emma stated the obvious, blinking in surprise at the House of Mirror effect, giving them a full three-hundred-and-sixty degree view of themselves as they stepped into the house.

_Great, because that’s what an assault victim needs._

“I look - “ Regina said, slowly approaching one of the mirrors as if reading her mind. Her reflection made her cringe and she scowled at it with obvious disdain, pushing her long hair off her shoulders as if it was something grotesque. 

“Different?” Emma offered, voicing her own initial thought's at seeing Regina resembling her younger self.

“Weak,” she muttered, eyebrows pulling together and eyes widening in an open glare at her one reflection. The lines in her face tightened as her lips curled up in a sneer. She took a shaky breath, the joints in her fingers clicking as she strained against her instinct to pull her hands into tight fists. Watching her reflection, the Saviour watched as the blurry cloud of confusion was fully lifted from dark eyes, and what replaced it was somehow scarier. 

Like piling sandbags on the beach before a storm or the impossible height of vast concrete holding back a raging river, her gaze, which was secretly capable of infinite warmth, hardened. Finding her footing in the dark, Regina reached for the only available handheld she knew how to find. She may not be that person anymore - but the weather warning in her battered but resilient heart needed the familiar embankment against the rising tide. 

“Regina,” Emma offered gently after seeing the walls go up, “You don’t look weak.” 

“I do!” Regina spat, pulling at the fabric of her skirt and looking at it like she wanted to set it on fire, “He fucking picked this because it made me look like that fragile and delicate teenager he bought! Someone he could easily overpower...”

“Bought?”

Emma felt sick. She actually couldn’t pinpoint a moment she hadn’t felt sick, not since she had rushed back into the mayor’s office looking for Regina only to be greeted with smeared blood and shattered glass. Rolling in and out of intensity like ocean waves, her throat was steeled against each undulating swing of nausea. Except perhaps this one. Emma swallowed against her own rising tide, and her stomach cramped with fury. 

“What else would you call marrying off a seventeen-year-old to someone over thrice her age for power? My mother and her fucking business transactions,” Regina cursed, “Whoring her daughter to the highest bidder just to live in a castle. Even if that highest bidder was her ex-fiancee, who was twice _her_ age before she even had me! Not everyone got true love and their magical princess wedding, Emma.”

The blonde blinked rapidly, her brain struggling to keep up with the implications of Regina’s trauma. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and once again fighting off the urge to vomit, “That is... _so_ fucked up.”

“Quite. Now, change me back, Emma.” Regina ordered, before rolling her eyes in irritation at Emma’s scepticism, “The hair! The clothes! Come on, change me back.”

“I honestly think healing you should be the priority,” Emma ran her hand through her hair, trying not to feed off Regina’s stress, “Why don’t we go into the other room - “

“Do it, now!” Regina threatened.

“Regina,” Emma said calmly, refusing to rise to the brunettes defensive anger, “It would be so much easier if I just took off the bracelet, then you can change yourself back.”

“ _NO_! I mean...No, That’s not an option,” Regina said, snatching back the wrist that wore the leather cuff, clinging to the last barrier that stood between her and her old habits, “My magic - It’s probably best I don’t have it right now.”

“What? Why?” Emma asked, shocked at how fiercely Regina had pulled her arm away, “The sooner you get your magic back the sooner we can go back and give that bastard everything he deserves.”

“No, Emma,” she gritted out, fingernails desperately digging into the leather cuff that weighed her arm down like a comfort blanket.

“I don’t understand, Regina!”

“No, I don’t expect you do,” Regina muttered, glaring at her reflection one final time before turning the blonde. Whatever Emma was going to respond with caught in her throat at the simmering expression of loathing that hadn’t been directed at her since her early days in Storybrooke. As she had suspected, when Regina spoke again it was with the dominating voice she used during her most intimidating moments Madame Mayor, “Now, I’ve asked twice, I won’t ask again. Change me back, Miss Swan. I know that even _you_ are fully capable of such simple magic.” 

“Okay, geez. I’ve just never done a glamour spell - or removed one, I guess - on someone else. So just. like, give me a second,” Emma said, squaring her shoulders and breathing out in concentration. She stepped forward and didn’t miss how the brunette tensed and jerked to take a step back before stopping herself. Sighing, she forgot her annoyance at the older woman who she knew, rationally, was only lashing out. 

“See,” Regina mocked coldly when she had finally been returned to her sweater and pencil skirt, long curls vanishing into straight shoulder-length hair. “Really, Emma. Was that so hard? You’d expect better from the Saviour.”

“You know, you don’t have to act like that with me. This whole mean, Evil Queen thing,” Regina tensed at the accusation, not feeling comfortable with how Emma’s throw away comment hit dangerously close to home, “I know all about using your armour to hide, you don’t have to - Hey, Regina!” 

Emma shouted out the last part as Regina turned to stalk away from her. Regina didn’t respond, continuing to walk away from the woman who was effortlessly pulling sandbags from her flood wall. If only she could just find a moment of fucking peace to deal with the whirlwind that had been the past few hours. 

Travelling on auto-pilot she realised her mistake a little too late. If she was looking for peace, the living room was not where she was going to find it. 

A continuation of the house of horrors, the usually cosy den offered little respite. Just as Mary Margret and David’s apartment had been, her furniture was covered with sheets white and covered in - It felt like a lead weight was resting on her chest. Faded and brown each sheet was marked with a shape that she recognised, it had been burned into her mind after countless nightmares reliving the moment she had created it. 

Her fucking "marriage contract." 

It was too much. Was this really what was waiting for her when she finally died? She shut her eyes against the sight and against the magma of madness bubbling in her chest. But as was usually the case, she had been bent until she broke, and, allowing the crack in the dam, and she lashed out. 

Snatching the fabric up, she practically growled with fury. Grasping the hem she relished in the scratching sound of tearing linen. But the relief was short-lived. Crumpling up the two halves into a knotted bundle, she threw it with a wordless shout, enjoying watching as it took down a vase that clattered to the floor and smashed. 

“Hey! Hey, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing is wrong,” she hissed. She was breathing heavily and wildly in the wake of destruction, simpering sarcastically ask she gesticulated, “Everything is absolutely _wonderful_. Or didn’t you notice?!”

“Will you stop pushing me away?!” Emma asked, following behind her “I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help, Miss Swan,” she spat out slowly because the words tasted sour and her mouth fought against them. 

“Can you stop with the ‘Miss Swan,’ I meant it when I said we’ve been through too much. Maybe cool it a little with the lashing out, too. I’m kind of the local expert in not being pushed away by you, so maybe we can just skip it this time,” Emma said, putting her hands on her hips. She expected a cutting remark in return, but Regina had frozen, something past Emma’s shoulders having caught her gaze. 

Emma normally wouldn’t have accepted any distraction from what she considered to be a pretty important conversation, but for the second time she was caught off guard by how cold and malicious Regina looked. So when the brunette walked as if in a trance, eyes fixed firmly behind her, Emma had no choice but to turn and see just what was worth the interruption. Raising her eyebrows at what she saw, her first thought was that it had been a while since she had been stopped in her tracks before a painting. 

This one was smaller, and although Emma still knew very little of art, she could tell it was not nearly as well-composed as the painting that had previously captured her attention. It felt cardboard, the renditions lifeless and although the gaudy frame was in much better condition, it looked bleached and neglected. Dead and lifeless and nothing like ‘ _The Death of Princess Tarakanoff_ ’ had been, which had demanded captivation from where it hung in The Met. Perhaps that's why she hadn’t noticed it until Regina had, it was really very unimpressive in everything except its size. She was, however, intrigued by how familiar the faces of the two women looked. 

“That’s not you,” Emma spoke from behind her. Regina wasn’t surprised the blonde had followed her in her slow approach to the portrait and could feel her step beside her. Regina knew she was being watched, scrutinised carefully, but she couldn’t stop herself from letting unbridled rage take over her eyes. 

“It’s your mother,” Regina spat, “And Eva.”

“Oh...” Emma paused, looking at her grandmother whose likeness she had never seen, “What’s a painting of them doing here?”

Regina glowered, her cold laugh deep and murderous, “Why? To torture me, of course. That portrait hung on the wall opposite my bed for my entire marriage.”

Emma furrowed her eyebrows in confusion before her eyes widened in shock. The sensation of waving nausea returned with the force of a tropical storm. It was cruel. Cruelty she had always been a little aware of but had never really been forced to fully consider. The young girl in the portrait was beaming and laughing, not a care in the world, while her pompous mother grinned. Snow’s insistence for a replacement for that mother had been just one of many factors that led to the brunette’s entrapment, but now it was hardly a wonder she had hated her so fiercely. How quick she had pinned blame on the young princess made a lot of sense with her likeness laughing down at her, like the child knew she had got off scot-free after getting Daniel killed and was just rubbing it in Regina's face as she was raped. 

Finally, Emma gave up fighting the hurricane in her stomach. Pulling the wastepaper basket from beneath the sideboard, she hacked up the meagre contents of her stomach. She had been holding back since first finding the brunette, blocking out her body’s reaction to her state. Overwhelmed by the canvas, by Regina’s unnerving detachment, the stench of cognac and blood hit her nostrils again as her mind replayed the day's events, and she continued to heave until she brought up nothing but saliva. 

“My sentiments exactly,” Regina spoke not turning back to look at the retching blonde, cold and distant and so _so sad_ , “You get used to it, dear.”

“Regina, I’m so sorry,” Emma said, standing and wiping her mouth and eyes, “When I asked how you got like this - I didn’t know. It - _you_ make so much more sense now.”

“Emma, that’s dangerous territory,” Regina growled, feeling too exposed. She didn’t want to be understood like this, least of all by the object of her affection. It made her feel vulnerable all over again. 

“I can help you, just let me take off the bracelet,”

“If you were to offer your help now I would refuse it! The cuff stays,” Regina crossed her arms and glared, “At least until I can calm down enough to go back to the apartment so we can find a way out of this very literal hell-hole.”

“So that’s it?” Emma asked disbelievingly, “We’re just going to pretend this never happened?!”

“That’s precisely what’s going to happen,” Regina commanded, hiding her shaking hands behind her back, “It’s hardly the first time. I dealt with eleven years of that - man. One more degradation is like a drop of rain in the sea.”

“Is that meant to make me feel better about this?” Emma asked, pinching her temples.

“No, it’s meant to make _me_ feel better,” Regina bit back, and that shut her up.

Emma looked at her warily, but the older woman was resolute, standing as straight as a ruler, chin jutted out in pride. The front was so convincing Emma almost missed the way her jaw quivered and her eyes watered. She wondered if anyone in the Enchanted Forest had ever taken the time to look closely at the Evil Queen because she found it alarmingly easy to see past her walls. Of course, almost five years of trying to better herself, of becoming more in touch with her emotions and undoing the years of spite and revenge probably drastically changed her armour’s effectiveness. It’s likely she was just out of practice stacking sandbags. 

“Regina,” Emma changed her tactic, her voice rife with sympathy as she approached the brunette softly, “It’s okay to be angry and upset. You are allowed to feel wronged, to want to put it right. He deserves - “

“No, I’m not. _I don’t get to be upset_ ,” Regina said, her voice as frigid as the air in the room, “Because we all know what happens when _I_ retaliate. We’ve all been down that road and - ”

“Wanting justice isn’t the same as wanting revenge.”

“No!” She cut fiercely, recoiling at the word, “I have fought with everything I have to kill that part of me. The part of me that needs that. I’ve been given a second chance do you think I’d be so lucky as to get a third?!”

“It’s not about second chances, Regina. No one would blame you if you - “

A cold laugh cut her off, venomous and dangerous. When she spoke, her voice was tight, wrapped in bluster, “You know - that’s _exactly_ what I told myself the first time? I thought, ‘ _If only they knew_!” I thought that I was simply dealing out justice, and I was in the right to do so. And I don’t think I need to explain to you where that lie got me.”

“Regina - “ 

“Look at this place, Emma. It is horrible! I don’t want to be trapped here for eternity, hiding from Leopold in this House - this _House of Horrors_. I don’t want any unfinished business that keeps me here. If I give in again, not even you will be able to pull me back. If I’m to go mad, you can just leave me here to my madness, which I’m certain will destroy me again,” Regina broke off, getting more and more worked up and rolled her lips between her teeth shoving her fists at her side. Emma was in awe in the huge amounts of self-control the woman must be exercising, “Listen, it’s a slippery slope. Once you start, you don’t stop slipping until you’re at the bottom of the mountain, and it’s a long hike back up. Believe me, I know. So just like every other time I’ve been kicked in the gut by my absolute joke of a life, I have to just - put this behind me.”

“ _WHAT_?!” Emma screeched, not believing her ears, “So he just gets away with it?!”

“I don’t have a choice! I can’t choose revenge again,” Regina shouted, her self control cracking and her voice building with distress.

“What about justice?” Emma asked. Half a decade of being the sheriff, of living her role as the saviour, she found it really difficult to leave such a heinous injustice left unrighted. 

“Don’t,” Regina warned, chest heaving with emotions and her eyes swimming with a hurricane of emotion that blew right through her floodwall, “Don’t dangle this in front of me, Emma, it’s too _tempting_! Just because I’ve changed doesn’t mean I’m not still capable of all the horrible things I’ve done in the past. I’m still the same person, that potential for darkness didn’t just disappear, its still - I could so easily - " Emma was by her side in an instant, seeing the small tremble in Regina’s voice that she was trying to swallow down for what it was.

Her chest jumped as her breath convulsed against the coming Tempest. Like clouds opening up for a downpour, a deluge of tears fell unrestrained from stormy eyes. Gasping breath fell over itself and Emma’s stomach twisted and her heart bled as Regina began to hyperventilate. A shaking hand lifted to hit her chest repeatedly, trying to get her racing heart to fall back into rhythm and dark red lips tightened against any cries that might leave her throat. Her shoulders started to shake and her knees juddered, and Emma reached out to catch her but stopped herself. 

“Can I?” Emma asked, palms hovering but not touching the other woman’s shoulders. The Saviour wanted so desperately to help but knew that there was little she could do to ease this pain, and she wasn't going to help by touching her without consent. 

Through hiccuping sobs, Regina nodded and allowed the blonde to gently guide her to sit on the sheet-free couch. The brunettes arms wrapped around herself as her crying got out of control, bringing her feet onto the sofa so she could bury her face in her knees. It was if she was disconnected from her body again, watching herself cry on the sofa, reminding herself of the many times she had done the same thing as a young woman on her chair in Mal’s castle. But instead of the dragon sorceress, a different blonde sat beside her, sitting on her hands to keep from reaching out. 

The gales of body wracking weeping slowed naturally to a softer drizzle of tears and small whimpers. She was tired and dizzy and so sore. The release of emotions brought with it the reminder of physical pain and she sagged further in on herself. 

“I’m going to heal the cuts on your head, is that okay?” Emma asked as if reading her mind, concern and sympathy evident in her words. 

Regina sighed, not opening her eyes but nodded. She felt a warm wave of magic pull any remaining shards of the Cognac bottle from her scalp, and a gentle tingling of her skin stitching itself back together under Emma’s gentle supervision. Keeping her face buried in her arms, she felt the tender caress of magic travel down her neck and start to untangle the mess that had been left on her body. 

“Is this okay?” The blonde froze in her ministrations, “Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

Again, the brunette nodded her consent. Emma glided her hands a few inches above the cashmere of Regina’s sweater. She couldn’t see what she was healing, but her magic easily reached out and found bruised flesh and the mangled knot of torn muscles in her shoulders. The bruise on her back took longer, and as she felt tendons stitch themselves together. Regina swallowed as she felt Emma’s magic pulse with emotion as she healed the bruises on her hipbones. 

One by one, each injury faded as Emma diligently and with unspoken devotion pulled the hurt and aches from her battered body until only one soreness remained untouched. 

“Is there - uh - Is there anywhere else - Do you need me to...?” Emma stumbled over her words. 

Regina opened her eyes to meet Emma’s and quickly wished she hadn’t, overcome by what she saw reflected back at her. Pity and anger mingled with something she couldn’t quite lay her finger on, something she had never seen in the blonde’s gaze, and she turned away. 

Hope fizzled out like a candle in the rain. No matter what happened, Emma, her Emma, was now a part of the worst part of her life. Any small spark of hope that their relationship might progress, any tiny flame she carried for the blonde, was wiped out in the storm. Creeping feelings of disgust and self-hatred crawled beneath her skin like scurrying insects, and she jerked away from Emma’s touch, embarrassed. 

“I think I’ll just go for a shower,” Regina said, swallowing against another volley of tears. Better to let them out in the shower, where they would mix and mingle with the drops of water that would slide down the glass, hidden. 

“Oh, okay,” Emma muttered, watching helplessly as the woman stood on shaky legs and disappeared into the house. Emma sat fidgeting on the couch for what felt like hours, but she knew in reality must have been a few minutes. Resisting the urge to go and drag one’s own grandfather to the River of Lost Souls and condemn him to eternal damnation certainly did _not_ make time fly. 

If she was going to respect Regina’s wishes and not give into her own fury, she had to occupy herself. Pushing herself to her feet, she made her way to the kitchen. Now that she was alone, she began to pick up on just how freezing the air in the mansion was, and she shivered as she touched the icy granite counters. In the dim light she could see her breath in small puffs of condensation. Her heart twisted painfully at the idea of Regina trapped in this shell of her home, freezing and cowering in fear for however long she would be forced to remain in purgatory. The brunette was right - it wasn’t worth the brief relief justice would bring. Not that such a rational thought had much impact on Emma’s irrational anger. She flicked on the stove and filled the kettle with frigid water from the tap, hoping Regina’s shower was running warmer than the glacial runoff that was coming out the sink. 

She managed to wrangle up a few slices of toast and was just pouring the water over a couple of teabags when Regina entered the kitchen. She was still dressed in the same sweater and skirt, but her face was free of makeup and her hair was a mess of dripping ringlets. If it wasn’t for the heaviness of the situation and the residual sadness in the brunette's face, Emma was sure she would have obsessed more over her natural hair and appearance. At the moment it felt wrong and she averted her gaze, pushing a plate of toast and a mug of tea across the counter. Neither of them were particularly hungry after the cyclone of events, but Emma knew logically they had to eat. 

“You can take this off now,” Regina said, sticking out her arm across the counter and giving Emma access to the magic dampening cuff. Emma looked at her, but upon not seeing any trepidation in chocolate eyes, she nodded and slipped the black leather off Regina’s arm. 

She waved her hand in front of her face, hair drying and straightening while perfect make-up masked her tear-streaked cheeks and slightly blue lips. It looked like Regina’s shower was as arctic as Emma had feared it might be. Her suspicions were confirmed when her fingers reached out and grasped fiercely at the hot surface of the mug and how she breathed in the swirling steam. 

“Jesus Christ, it is fucking freezing in here,” Emma said, shivering again. 

“Of course it is,” Regina mumbled, not elaborating any further at Emma’s confused glance, simply sipping at her tea.

“You’re not weak, you know,” Emma said after a while of leaning on her hands to keep from reaching out to comfort the other woman, and simply gazing at her wishing she could do more.

“Huh?”

“Earlier. You said you looked weak, but I don’t think you’re weak at all,” Emma said, “You’re so strong. I mean we knew that, sing the whole ‘ _mo_ _st resilient heart_ ’ thing. But what you said, what you decided not to do - that’s really brave.”

“Brave? Is that what you’d call it?” Regina asked, shaking her head “I’d call it running out of options. Sometimes things really are as simple as just not having a choice.”

“There’s always a choice, Regina.”

“You must have said that to me a thousand times," A small smile pulled at the corner of her lips, and Emma basked in it, like the first glimpse of sunlight breaking through the clouds after a monsoon, "Although... it’s usually to stop me from doing bad things, not encourage me into them.”

“Exactly,” Emma said, “This isn’t meant to sound condescending, or anything, but I really want you to know - I’m _so_ proud of you.”

Regina couldn’t help the tear that slipped out of her already red-rimmed and burning eyes, and she swiped it away with her fingers quickly. She took a deep breath, hoping to still her fluttering heart before muttering out a strangled, “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry no one was there for you. I had no idea what it was like. I mean, I knew a little, but that stupid storybook - “

“That book has an alarming bias, but I supposed it serves its purpose,” Regina hid her hurt at always being painted as the bad-guy behind a haughty voice as she sniffed pompously at her toast, experimentally nibbling at it. 

“Maybe that’s why Henry’s author powers stopped working as soon as you were...” Emma broke off.

“They did?” Regina’s eyes snapped up. 

“Yeah, apparently the pen stopped recording. I guess now we know why. Exposing that piece of shit would surely ruin its black-and-white narrative,” Emma mumbled angrily, crushing a bit of her crust between her thumb and forefinger. 

“Surely, by now you’ve realised that there is more than one side to every story. And that book was not in the business of cultivating sympathy for the villain - “ The word stuck in her chest like tar.

“Was...” Emma was hesitant, but she felt she had to ask. She felt that surely, after all this time, someone would bear witness to Regina’s side of the story, like the woman was owed some sort of acknowledgement. “Was he always like that?”

Regina looked at her strangely, astounded as she chewed her small bite of food and Emma felt she may have crossed a line. This was all so difficult, and boundaries in rocky territory were never easy to see. 

“Sorry, I just wondered if maybe, you know if you ever wanted to talk - “ Emma scrambled quickly over her words. 

“Don’t apologise,” Regina whispered, a little breathless as she swallowed, “No one’s ever asked me, that’s all. I was just surprised.”

“Oh.”

“I’m upsetting you,” Regina said, glancing at the blonde’s clenching forearms, and her heart deflated, “I know he’s your grand-“

“I don’t give a flying _fuck_ who he was! He’s not my fucking family! Honestly, Regina, I’m disgusted - “ she broke off seeing the look of dismay that flashed across the brunette’s face, and she quickly tried to placate, “Not with you. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“He disagrees. I killed him.”

“It doesn’t fucking _matter_! That doesn’t me he gets to - He deserves so much worse than that, I mean,” Emma threw her arms in alarm, " - Oh my god. Does my mom know? I mean did she know?”

“Emma, I can’t,” Regina muttered, rubbing the spot on her wrist where the cuff had been. Emma dropped the subject, her mind running wild but keeping her face clean of emotion for Regina’s sake. 

“Sorry, I guess I’m just upset. It’s not fucking fair that you never - that no one ever cared. And all that bullshit about me bring back happy endings, and I never once questioned if that was the right thing to do because that stupid fucking book - and I believed it. I’m sorry, you’ve been so wrong, only to be made out to be this Evil Queen - “

“I _was_ the Evil Queen, Emma. That wasn’t just the product of bad storytelling.”

“Yeah and turns out there’s a damn good reason for it!”

“Emma, not this again. _Please_ ,” Regina pleaded, and Emma backed off at the desperation in her voice. She nodded, biting her lip against everything she wanted to say, before deciding instead to cram her mouth full of toast she didn't actually want just to keep it from putting Regina through the wringer. 

“You seem happy,” Regina sniffed, after a while, offering another small smile.

“Do I?” Emma asked, distracted and lost in her own self-deprecating thoughts.

“Happy enough, then,” Regina said, “Isn’t the why we’re down here? For your happy ending?”

Emma’s jaw tightened. Insecurities that had been bubbling beneath the surface (and sometimes above the surface) since she had led her family into the underworld returned with full force. If she hadn’t been so rash, charging headfirst with little regard to the consequences, none of them would be down here. If she hadn’t felt like she had something to prove because Hook had died and she had lied to him. 

“I’m not sure it’s worth this.”

“Of course it is. We knew the risks coming down here, but chose to help you anyway. You needed me, that will always be worth it,” Regina gave her a small smile, before gazing sadly into her rapidly cooling tea, blinking quickly. 

Comfort and support was what the brunette was trying to give, but it felt like the swing of a hammer hitting a nail in a coffin. The final nail in the coffin. Emma recognised it immediately for that. Regina had practically alluded to that she had endured for Emma and Hook, and Emma had to admit the same awful thought had crossed her mind. If it wasn't for her, they wouldn't have been anywhere near this situation in the first place.

How could she possibly turn around and tell her now that she wasn’t as in love with Hook as everyone believed?

Could she throw her sacrifice back in her face for her own selfish want to admit her feelings? Feelings she were pretty convinced Regina didn’t reciprocate?

No, of course, was the answer. Her chest felt like it was about to concave in on itself, and Emma wished desperately for a way to go back. Go back in time and listen to Maleficent’s warning. The dragon sorceress had been right, she could have called this whole venture off before it started. And now they were both trapped. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, holding back tears of her own. 

“It’s hardly your fault,” Regina waved her off, and Emma looked away resisting the urge to divulge just how much her fault it was. She _had_ been warned, “Hades has clearly got a vendetta against me. He loves Zelena, and as far as he - and Zelena - are concerned, I ruined her life - _Oh my god!_ That's it.”

“What?” Emma said, snapping forward as Regina interrupted herself.

“Actually, all these mirrors have just given me an idea,” Regina said, pushing off the counter and going back into the entry hall, and grabbing a small handle mirror off the wall. She waved her hand over it, ignoring the rise in temptation as her magic swirled in her palm, focusing that energy onto the glass surface. 

Blue smoke swirled in its silver frame before an image of Hades and Zelena formed in her hand. Emma leaned over Regina's shoulder to get a better look at where an image of Zelena and Hades appeared.

_“You want to come with me to Storybrooke?” Zelena’s voice spoke out._

_“If you’d have me,” Hades responded._

Emma and Regina looked at each other warily, before returning to the mirror.

_“But what about all your plans?”_

_“I don’t care about that anymore. Not if I can have you. All I care about is a future where we might be a family.”_

Emma wrinkled her nose in disgust and muttered a repulsed, “Ew,” which Regina couldn’t help but allow a small chuckle at. The brunette’s focus was still on the mirror, so she missed how her small laugh had Emma beaming with relief at it's tiny sound.

_“Don’t think my sister and the rest of her terribly self-righteous gaggle of do-gooder friends would want to share their home with Lord Death and the Wicked Witch.”_

_“What if they weren’t there to stop us?”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“The Underworld will still exist even after I leave, which means all of the heroes will be trapped here, and I mean all of them. After the Charmings pulled their little switch-er-roo, I made sure everyone’s name got put on a tombstone.”_

Regina wordlessly stretched backwards with her spare hand to grasp at Emma’s own. She didn’t need to voice what was going on in her head, and why she was reaching out in fear. Emma ran her thumb over the fine lines of Regina’s knuckles before squeezing back, hoping to calm the older woman. They were now painfully and acutely aware of exactly what being trapped down here entailed.

_“You want to keep them down here for eternity?” Zelena echoed their worst fear._

_“There is no other way,” Hades responded, seeming too proud of himself to put up much of show of remorse, “I know things between you and your sister are... complicated, but it’s her or us. So...what do you say, Zelena? Will you make chaos with me?”_

“Regina,” Emma whispered, watching the mirror, “ _Henry_ \- he’ll be trapped down here too.”

“I know,” Regina muttered, conjuring her jacket and pulling it on and heading for the exit with not so much as a glance back, “Quickly, we better get going.”

“Wait, _what_? What are you doing? Where are you going?”

“Paying the farmhouse a visit. We need to act fast if we’re going to convince Zelena not to throw us under the bus. I will not be stuck here for any longer than necessary,” Regina said firmly in conviction, boots clicking with purpose.

“Trust me, I get that,” Emma said, following her out the front door, “But you’re going now? Is that a good idea?”

Regina froze, “Emma, our priority has to be getting out of here - getting Henry out of here. We can’t miss our chance to do that just because I’m - having a rough day.”

“A rough day?!” Emma asked incredulously, eyes wide, “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Actually, as we’ve already discussed, we’re not calling it anything,” Regina said, flicking her hair out of the collar of her jacket and holding up a hand against Emma's protest, “Go back to the apartment. Tell Henry I’m okay, that I ran into an old enemy but it’s fine now. And that I’ve gone to see Zelena, but am fine.”

“What?! They’re not going to buy that. Henry and David saw your office - “

“Emma, I’m asking you, I’m trusting you, as my friend, _please_. Find a way to convince them. I won’t be long, I promise. I just need to speak to Zelena, and I’ll come right back," Emma still looked unconvinced, "Emma, I'm not one to beg. Please, don't say a word. We can, like you said, just pretend this never happened. It will make it so much easier. _Please, for me."_

Wide brown eyes pleaded with her, flaming with warmth and trust in the late evening light, and _god damn it_ , that was Emma’s weakness.

“Okay. Okay, just for god’s sake, be careful,” Emma said, barely finishing her sentence before Regina had disappeared in a cloud of violet smoke. 

  
\--

Emma kept her word, and they didn’t mention it again. It was obvious she wanted to, by the way she trailed around behind Regina, not leaving her side for longer than necessary. Their secret remained decisively unaddressed, even in moments of quiet privacy. Sometimes Emma would look at Regina with unchecked intensity, and the brunette would know what she was thinking. But the Saviour would be forced, against her better instincts, to let the moment pass, knowing that it was what Regina wanted. She continued to say nothing. 

It ate at her every time. 

It ate at her when she had stayed glued to Regina’s side after Robin’s death, and her story was playing out in a pattern that seemed a little too similar to last time, but she said nothing.

It ate at her when they argued in Neals apartment in New York, and Regina admitted to the Evil Queen lurking in her psyche, she said nothing. 

It ate at her when she surprised everyone by using the serum to split herself from the Evil Queen, and Emma knew there was more to it than she was letting on, she still said nothing. 

It ate at her when Regina came back from work late with shorter hair than Emma had ever seen on her, the blonde couldn’t help but connect the dots, remembering her disgust when her hair had been long. But, again, she said nothing. 

It ate at her when wide brown eyes had looked at her with such tangible heartbreak when she had told her she was marrying Hook; there was the faintest flash of hope that maybe - just maybe - her feelings were reciprocated, but she knew that marriage was a heavy topic, she said nothing.

The words unspoken were like a weight around her ankles, and she felt clumsy, navigating life with a series of missteps. Since they got back, every decision she made without her felt like she was tripping, as uncoordinated and graceless as a bull in a glass shop, in the wrong direction. 


	9. When All is Said and Done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, what we've all been waiting for! A quick break (if one can call 14,000 words quick) from all the angst, (that's also a lie, there's still angst), I really loved writing this chapter. It finally feels like all the little things are starting to come together! Does anyone actually remember the first two chapters? I hope so, otherwise, you're going to be wondering what the hell I'm on about...
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me! I honestly did not expect this for my first SQ fic. As always, I love hearing what you all think. My schedule is shit and I'm so bad at replying to comments, but they really do make me smile. 
> 
> Horrifyingly, the song for this chapter is ABBA's 'When All is Said and Done' - which is probably the cheesiest thing ever and no one is more mortified than me, but IT FITS TOO DAMN WELL. (To make matters worse, my GF pointed out that it's actually in Mamma Mia. Please, please, I never have intended nor ever will intend any connection to Mamma Mia. But when I tried to find something to replace it, nothing else fit quiet as well - so I've resigned myself to accepting the self-loathing that comes with this decision.)
> 
> Melodrama aside...Enjoy! ! X

It certainly wasn’t the thrum of traffic that woke Emma Swan. Nor was it the heavily accented shouting on the street. Nor the rattle of metal that came with the couple that lived upstairs smoking on the fire exit and playing their radio. Nor even the distant wailing of a car alarm. What woke Emma Swan was, in typical Emma Swan fashion, her grumbling stomach. 

“Ugh,” she groaned, a hand flopping onto her face to shield her eyes against the light. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept so deeply, the heavy grogginess refusing to shift as she pressed the palms of her hands against her aching eyes - _god_ , she had such a headache. Taking a deep breath and stretching she froze. 

Something was _wrong._..

She shouldn’t hurt so much, her mouth had never been so dry, and she could smell smoke. Like a bucket of cold water, her last memories came flooding back to her. _Hook, their argument, her collapsing house_. Gasping in alarm, she shot upright. Immediately, eyebrows knitted in confusion and she frowned, freezing in what she thought must be a dream. Her reactionary anger at the thought of her husband - soon to be ex-husband - was thwarted as she soon realised that the boiling rage was not accompanied by the electrical burning in her fingertips that came with her magic. 

“What the hell?” She said to no one, looking around and blinking furiously as if the image would fade. But the four walls of her old bedroom stayed stubbornly before her eyes. There was no way for her to be here, tucked safely under fresh cotton sheets, miraculously arriving hundreds of miles away from where her last conscious moment - she hadn’t been here in years. 

Rubbing her forehead, she pushed back the duvet, briefly noting she was in the same clothes as last night - That ruled out a memory wiping curse as the cause of her surprise relocation. Moving on auto-pilot, testing the boundaries of her mirage, she milled about the room, opening a few drawers and looking at her abandoned possessions. Opening the window she breathed deeply before coughing again - well, it definitely smelled like New York. Shutting the window against the city’s clamour, she caught her reflection. 

“Eesh, yikes,” She grimaced. Despite her initial reaction, the thought did cross her mind that she ought to look much worse considering she’d been a collapsing building. Her face was cleaner than it should be, smelling faintly of freesia and soap, clear except for a pair of skin closures that crossed the cut on her forehead. Her hair had been neatly brushed into a loose ponytail and although her clothes still reeked of smoke, they had been brushed free of any residual debris. 

_Huh?_

The apartment seemed to be unoccupied, as she strolled into the hallway. 

“Hello? Henry?” She called out softly for the apartment’s only other past resident but was met with stillness and quiet. Her stomach still guiding her, she went to the fridge. If this really was a dream or some new curse, she should at least have food in the fridge. But when she opened the door, she was met with nothing but gleaming clean surfaces, the smell of disinfectant, and a single Hardees take-away bag with nothing but a half-empty container of fries and a fruit cup in it. 

Everything was off and warning bells were blaring in her head again. 

Her fridge should have had at least the few jars of jam that had been abandoned to accumulate four years worth of mould. In fact, half the surfaces in the open plan kitchen proudly gleamed with cleanliness, the other half hid under a thick layer of dust as they should. Her sink swirled with the aroma of bleach but the dishwasher stank of mildew. But as bizarre as that was, her red leather jacket hung over the back of one of the chairs at the table and her keys were tossed haphazardly on the surface - which is exactly where she herself would have put them. Toying between the probability of memory loss versus hyper-realistic dream while pulling on the jacket and pocketing her keys, she made her way to the only room she hadn’t investigated yet. 

“Kid? You in here?” She knocked lightly on the door to what used to be Henry’s room, her tapping pushing it open and she peered in. 

All her questions were answered with what greeted her on the other side of the blue-painted door, and, despite it all, she smiled. 

Fast asleep against the headboard of the small single bed, looking just as dust-covered and worse-for-wear as Emma, still in the same dress from the day before, was Regina. 

Well, that answered that. 

“Regina?” She whispered, “Hey? Gina?”

The brunette stirred with a tiny groan and unintelligible mumble but stayed asleep, turning away from the disruption and pressing her face into the spaceship covered pillow. It looked like she hadn’t intended to fall asleep, a portfolio of Henry’s old projects from his time at school in New York open in her lap. The keys to the Mercedes, her phone and a paper coffee cup filling the only spot on the bedside table that wasn’t covered in dragon figurines while a roll of paper towels and an empty bottle of Mr Clean rested next to her. 

Endearment washed over the worry in the Saviour’s heart like a balm, and she sighed in relief. Pulling the folded quilt out from underneath the sleeping woman’s feet, she carefully draped the star covered blanket over her, removing her discarded heels and the cleaning products from the bed. Still, Regina didn’t wake, sinking deeper into the cushions and Henry’s collection of stuffed animals, pulling at the quilt and clearly exhausted. 

Emma had an instinct to take a picture of what she thought was one of the more adorable things she had ever seen - _where the hell was her phone_? Fishing through her pockets and fighting off the instinctual panic that comes with not knowing where your phone is, she pulled out a twenty. Her stomach gave another irritated gurgle.

\--

It was the nature of large cities to change, often leaving fulltime residents to wonder, ‘ _can’t believe they’ve already finished that new complex, feels like they only just started building it_ ’ or, ‘ _I swear this used to be a two-way street_ ,’ or, ‘ _how long has that been there_?’ So a few years of living away from Manhattan, not to mention a jumble of fake memories, left Emma feeling more than a little confused and slightly overwhelmed as she stepped onto the sidewalk in the mid-morning bustle. Though she need not have worried, her feet took her on a familiar path. As the sights and sounds began to sink in, she was thoroughly convinced this was no dream by the time she returned to the apartment. 

Juggling a heavy bag and coffee tray, a large chunk of babka hanging out her mouth, she turned the key in the lock and realised that her plans of sneaking in weren’t going to work. From within the flat, she could hear rhythmic clicking of heels pacing furiously and a familiar rich voice uncharacteristically tight with distress.

“ - No I don’t know when she left! Snow, what do I _d_ o? I can’t just blindly go out into a city I don’t know...” Emma cringed at the panic in the brunette's voice, listening to the distorted sound of her mother’s voice through the phone and Regina’s annoyed sigh, “You don’t think I already thought of that? But I think her phone is still in what’s left of the house - “

Regina stopped speaking at the sound of the apartment door closing. Emma heard hurried footsteps before Regina appeared on the other side of the hallway, hair a little bit wild and eyes a little bit watery. 

“Hi,” Emma mouthed, giving a sheepish smile and small wave, feeling horrible for worrying the older woman. 

“Hold on, Snow, she’s just walked in...Yeah, yeah, we’ll call you back,” Regina hung up the phone, hands flying to her hips and eyebrows pinching in a feeble attempt at reprimand, “Emma! I’m not keeping you prisoner, but when you're injured and have no phone and after the night I’ve had -“ Regina took a deep breath, trying to calm her frantic nerves, “I’m just saying, next time, a note would be nice.”

“Sorry,” Emma apologised genuinely, babbling to cover her guilt, “I didn’t really know what was going on - I thought maybe we’ve been cursed? Or some weird magic dream - Anyway, you looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb you and I was really, _really_ hungry so - “

She held out her hands showing-off the warm bag of food and the coffee before depositing them on the table and giving her best bashful smile and puppy eyes. 

“Let me get this straight,” the brunette quirked an eyebrow in fond amusement, as Emma tore off another large piece of the babka loaf and popped it in her mouth to prove a point, “You wake up injured, dazed, and confused, thinking you’ve been cursed or had your memories taken, and the first thing you do is - get food?”

Emma looked up, guiltily, and attempted to mumble her response through her overfull mouth. 

Before she could come up with anything intelligible, or even so much as swallow, her arms were suddenly full of Regina who, overcome with relief, had rushed into her. The arms that were around her neck clung tightly and she couldn’t tell if the rush of air that hit her neck was a laugh or a sob. 

“ _Idiot_. God, I’ve been so worried,” Regina fretted, tightening her embrace for a second before pulling back but staying firmly rooted in Emma’s space, needing the firm physical reassurance that the blonde was there and mostly unharmed. Fingertips ghosted over the gash on her head, and Emma blushed as feather-light touches traced the sides of her face and ran smoothing sweeps across her eyebrows. The velvety gaze of warm brown eyes searched Emma’s face, taking her in, “How are you feeling?”

“Uhhh, ache-y. And my head is killing me, but fine,” Emma said, skin going clammy under Regina’s thorough inspection. Frowning in disbelief, the brunette just sighed, firmly planting one of her kinetic palms on her neck, the pads of her fingers pressing tightly as if she was afraid Emma might disappear from beneath them, thumb brushing her jaw. The touch was meant to be soothing but it had been just over twenty-four hours ago when the brunette had been kissing her on the cheek and flirting more openly than they ever had - and so much had happened since then. Overwhelming didn’t begin to cover it.

Realising she was quickly approaching smothering and picking up on Emma’s nervousness, Regina blushed and pulled back completely, shuffling her feet a little and wiping furiously at her eyes, “Sorry, sorry, It’s just been a lot - I’ve been so - I already said that.“

“Gina - I’m okay. It’s okay. I mean, I am definitely a little shaken, and a little shocked I lost so much control last night. But aside from doing some serious damage to my own property investments and my marriage..no harm done, right?”

_Oh, she didn’t know half of it._

“You gave the town quite a scare,” Regina said, before laughing a cracked, wet laugh, “You gave me quite a scare.”

“Here, I’ll make it up to you,” Emma said, offering the coffee and the bag. Regina took it begrudgingly, giving the blonde a fond but reprimanding smile, and suddenly she was speaking against her will, “I like you worrying about me”

“Yes, well, I don’t appreciate being forced into making a habit of it. What is this, anyway?” Regina asked, inspecting the food Emma had brought, lifting the braided loaf Emma had been picking at, thankful for the distraction. 

“Oh, that’s a Babka loaf. It’s like a chocolate bread thing, it’s really good and one of the things I really missed about living here. Then there’s some bagels, cream cheese, a white fish spread - that I thought you’d like, being all fancy - and strawberry cream cheese,” Regina frowned at the last one, “I know, it’s not my bag either. But the woman gave it to me for free. She remembered Henry and it was always his favourite.”

Skipping over the pink fluffy spread, Regina had gone through the trouble taking one of the plates from the cabinet, scrubbing the dust off, and doing the same with proper silverware. She even got out a bread knife and cutting board to help with the bagels and babka. Meanwhile, Emma was grabbing them hot out the toaster, unceremoniously plopping them onto a napkin before tearing at the warm bread and using it as a scoop in the plastic tub of cream cheese. 

“Heathen,” Regina muttered, sitting down opposite, methodically smearing the fish over the top and taking a small bite. 

Emma didn’t have anything to bite back with because the vision of Regina making herself so firmly at home in the apartment did something strange to the organ beating in Emma’s chest. It felt so right to have the other woman reclining in her dining chair, eating breakfast off her plates and looking wistfully out her windows cradling a cup of coffee that Emma had brought her. In some way, it was a meagre repayment to the woman who had allowed her to invade her own home on Mifflin Street so fully, and Emma finally felt like she had some small shelter to offer back. 

Which of course begged the question...

“So, uh - What are we doing here? What happened?”

“I was hoping you could tell me that,” Regina replied, tearing her gaze away from the apartment across the street. 

“You mean you just woke up here too? _And you’re not worried about this_!?” Emma said, starting to rise in alarm. The only thing that had been keeping her from panic was that, aside from her reaction to Emma’s disappearing act, Regina seemed wholly unperturbed by their sudden appearance in New York. 

“Calm down. No, I drove us here last night,” Emma’s eyebrows shot upwards in surprise as Regina explained, “It was easy enough to find the address, I’ve been receiving the mortgage info for months. We got in around four this morning. I was actually referring to the ‘what happened’ portion of your question. You said you lost control, which we figured was the case, and I know you’ve been very...secretive regarding that issue. But I can’t help but worry that maybe something else happened last night that set it off? You sounded,” Regina’s voice dropped off into a soft murmur, “You sounded terrified when I called you.”

Swallowing, Emma was torn between crying and blowing the whole thing off as nothing. Somehow she got uncomfortably stuck between the two, and she sounded strange even to her own ears, as she did her best to give a very mellowed out recount of what had happened with Hook, skipping out anything that had to do with Henry or Regina. 

“Do you need me to kill him?” Regina asked and she sounded a little too much like she might not be joking. Sighing and speaking more seriously, “I didn’t realise it was so bad...I knew you were arguing, but how did it come to this?” 

“I don’t really know what you want me to say, Regina. He hates me and I kind of don’t blame him - no wait, let me finish,” Emma held up a hand as she could see Regina getting angry and opening her mouth to interrupt, “I have been ignoring him. On purpose. Because...because I don’t love him, and he knew it.”

Regina let out a little gasp, but kept her mouth shut, respecting Emma’s need to continue. 

“It was horrible. He was vile. Possessive, manipulative and so, so selfish - all the things I’ve known he was since the moment I met him. It just felt like such a punch in the gut and I was so angry and then I - I was cruel. And there’s no way to apologise for what I said,” Emma’s tone was resentful and dark, and perhaps a little dejected with ' _You are second best'_ ringing in her head, “Not that I want to. What he said - well that was worse. And I don’t think I could ever go back to someone who could - “ She stopped herself. Regina had suffered enough for what had happened in purgatory, she didn’t need to know that it had been broadcast to Hell’s residence and Hook knew about it. Much less that he thought she deserved it. The thought had Emma red-hot with fury again, and was relieved that the crackle of magic didn’t come with it, “He’s a bastard and I’m not going back, but I - I didn’t mean to burn the house down. Thank you, by the way. I don’t know what possessed you to bring me here, but I really appreciate the space. And - you know - my magic not blowing shit up. ”

“Oh. Well, you’re welcome but actually...Emma, we didn’t really have a choice. I had to get you out of Storybrooke,” Regina bit her lip, hands splaying in front of her in a modifying motion as she carefully considered her next words, “Don’t freak out, no one is blaming you. But I’m afraid it’s gotten a little more complicated...”

Regina explained about the earthquakes, the realm crossing and the jumbling of the magic in Storybrooke. How no one had heard from Killian. How they hadn’t been able to teleport or heal or repair the extensive damage, and how, even unconscious, Emma’s presence was making waves in Storybrooke’s magic and, by proxy, its existence. 

“...Apparently, they’ve even brought Gold out of hiding to see if he has anything useful to offer,” Regina continued as if this was simply casual gossip, while Emma just chewed furiously on the inside of her mouth, “Not that I have much faith in the imp, but it’s clearly an ‘all hands on deck’ situation. Otherwise, Mal would never consider getting him involved.”

“Shit,” Emma swore, “Fucking hell, that's - well apart from being crazy embarrassing - really bad. Ugh, Mal was right. Why do I never listen to her?”

Regina snorted, “Don’t tell her you said that - she’ll never let it go.”

“Oh my god...” Emma groaned in mortification, rubbing her temples as the headache came back, “Regina, How bad was it? Was - was anyone hurt?”

“Emma...” Regina started slowly. She, more than most, knew well the crushing defeatism that came with causing others’ harm, “No one blames you - “

“Don’t. Was anyone hurt?”

“In the destruction of the house? No. In the earthquakes?” Regina sighed, and that was enough for the blonde to figure out the answer for herself. If Regina was hesitant to tell her, it must have been bad, “No one died, Emma, but I won’t insult you by mincing words - the town is in pretty bad shape. Inevitably, natural disasters do come with some injury.”

Emma didn’t say anything, her expression hardening and her eye’s guarded. Locking her jaw and clenching her teeth, she dropped the torn bagel onto the napkin she was using as a plate, no longer hungry. 

“I spoke to Mal this morning,” Regina spoke again, watchful and caring, “She’s been working on these - your- disturbances all week. She told me that she thinks it might be due to the Black Fairy’s curse as if a bit of it remains.”

“Fuck,” Emma swore, “So I can’t even break a curse right? Killian was right...”

“What?” Regina asked, not believing the pirate could possibly be right about anything, and really not keen on the defeat in the other woman’s tone, “Hook knew about the curse?”

“No but he...he thinks I mess everything up,” ‘ _Well done, Swan, just another thing to add to list of things you’ve wrecked._ ’ Emma bit back the memory, “He’s right...I do wreck everything.”

“I’ve never heard anything more ridiculous in my life,” Regina said sternly, crossing her arms and pursing her lips in the way she did when she was trying very hard not to fly off the handle, “That moronic ape had no right to say that. It’s so so untrue, Emma. If only you knew just how untrue it is...god, you’ve saved me more times than I can even count, and you’ve built a wonderful family around you. You do not wreck things.”

“Yes I do,” Emma insisted, “It seems like all I’ve done is make one wrong decision after another. At least the past two years have just been a series of mistakes, especially where Hook was concerned. I should have left him before the whole Dark One thing - I wanted to. I was going to! But once again, I fucked it up. Like no matter how hard I try, I can’t make the right decision and everyone winds up hurt,” Emma’s stone-like gaze still bore into the wall, as if she was contemplating pulling that one down too. 

“Emma, whatever happened last night - it wasn’t intentional. Hell, it wasn’t even really you, just Storybrooke and whatever remains of the Black Fairy’s curse piggy-backing off your magic. I wish you’d come to me about it sooner,” Regina wanted to reach out and soothe the lines of worry off the blondes pretty face. Instead, she just clasped her hands in front of her and spoke earnestly, “Listen, Emma, I know you. I know you’re beating yourself up about this. I know you must have felt out of control, but I really believe that what’s been happening has little to do with your ability to navigate your magic. You’re much more skilled than that.“

Emma finally looked up, insecurity painted plainly across her face and it made Regina’s heartache. 

“Don’t look at me like that. You are. Probably more skilled than Mal knows. Without outside interference, you have too much talent and practice to be struggling with something as juvenile as a simple loss of control,” Regina was so certain and her words were healing to Emma’s battered self-esteem, “Listen. While Mal may be my magical superior, I know quite a bit more about curses than she does. Curses are not mathematical, nor are they as easily contained as people make them out to be. They are organic and can grow or evolve, often leaving behind some sort of trace or side effect - like the town line after the first curse. The first curse was cast with the intention of trapping everyone in an unhappy ending - and while it was broken, the town line remained. Like a functional scar - still trying to do the curses bidding.”

“So you’re saying...”

“The Black Fairy’s curse was meant to destroy all the other realms,” Regina continued, nodding, “and I think that intention of destruction may have lingered the same way the intention behind the town line lingered. As it was dark magic, it feeds off of negative emotions - anger, panic, envy, fear, hatred. It makes sense, magic and emotion being as tightly tied as they are, and your magic being as integral to the curse as it was. So if for some reason you were upset by a motivator for dark magic - maybe one you weren’t used to having to control? - you could have set it off and, in turn, it set you off. Really, it’s more likely that the curse was taking advantage of your emotions, than the other way around.”

“Wow, that’s...that’s quite the theory, Madame Mayor,” Emma said, mind catching up as it put the last pieces of the puzzle into place. Regina’s words washed over her like warm waves of relief, wafting away the piling responsibility she had felt the past few days. 

“Well, it was a long drive, and you weren’t very talkative,” Regina said, tilting her head, smiling at her and Emma was overcome with affection. 

“You’re right,” Emma conceded, a small smile pulling on her lips, “We should have come to you sooner.”

“Why didn’t you?” Regina asked softly, wringing her hands on the table and Emma cringed at the hurt in her voice that the mayor failed to mask. 

“What did Mal tell you?” It was more of a sigh of defeat than a question. 

“Annoying little,” Regina huffed and Emma clamped up again. The former Queen knew a deflection when she saw one, but the morning was heavy enough and let it rest, “They seem to be dealing with it well, though. It is bizarre to have just - left them to it.”

“Yeah, you must be going crazy.” 

“Everyone kept telling me not to worry. But, when I spoke to Mal earlier,” Regina shook her head, “I just feel like she is hiding something from me. Your mother didn’t mention anything either - maybe I’m being paranoid.”

“I don’t know,” Emma shrugged, “Slept through the whole thing, remember?”

“Yes, dear, I’m well aware,” Regina drawled, dancing her fingers across the surface of the coffee cup in agitated disquiet. 

Emma glanced to her hands and frowned at the wedding band that still pinched at her finger. Twisting at the ring she pulled it off, closing her fist around it and tightening her grip, hoping that she could tap into some small shred of magic and crush the leaden metal into dust. But when she pulled back her fingers, it was annoyingly whole leaving nothing but an angry red ring imprint on her palm. She glared disgustedly at it, tossing it to the table, it’s clang pulling Regina out of her own thoughts. 

“I think - I think my marriage is over,” Emma said finally.

Regina nodded, expecting this and trying her best to remain impartial, or at the very least not jump for joy, “How do you feel?”

“My parents,” Regina rolled her eyes - that’s not what she asked, “Do you think that they’ll - I don’t know - be angry?” 

“Of course not!” Regina said firmly, reaching across the table to grab her hand.

“Are you sure?” Emma pushed her bagel around the table, doing little to mask her lack of confidence, “Because, you know, being the product of the truest love is already a lot of pressure. I’m not sure divorce is really a family tradition.”

“Emma, your parent’s want what’s best for you. If the one-handed witless wonder was as horrible as you said, then I’m sure they don’t want you anywhere near him. Hell, I’m still debating bring back execution for the sole purpose of ridding him from our lives altogether,” Emma lips quirked in a smile at that. Regina’s evil tendencies were sometimes, disturbingly comforting. 

“Besides,” the brunette cleared her throat, before speaking coldly but confidently, squaring her shoulders, “If family legacy has got you that worried - need I remind you of your grandfather’s second marriage? Not exactly an example to follow - and I should know. And that ended in murder. So you are hardly the worst of your bloodline, and I suggest you put such ridiculous thoughts out of your mind.”

Emma’s eyes widened. It was so unlike Regina to bring that up of her own accord and she couldn’t help but wonder and how generous Regina was with her affection, putting herself in obvious discomfort to help console in whatever way she could. However, the mention of Leopold brought them to Emma’s other concern... 

“Are - are _you_ upset with me?” The question threw Regina, and she did a double-take, trying to discern why the blonde would ask her that and with such honest unease. 

“No,” she assured, “I’m glad - _thrilled_ , even - to see the back of Captain Guy-liner. Why would I be upset?”

“Because! Because you - I mean,” Emma ran her hands through her hair, fingers catching on her ponytail and sending a few strands lose, “Do I really need to spell it out for you?”

“Apparently,” Regina blinked. 

“I didn’t want you to think I was throwing away what everyone - what you in particular - did for us. Gods, Regina, I felt so...obligated to do what everyone expected of me,” Emma took a deep breath, and Regina just stared allowing the blonde to say what she needed to, “The worst part is I knew it while it was happening. I knew I wasn’t in love with him, not the way I’m - I’m expected to be. And you got thrown under the bus for it.“ 

“While what was happening? No one expects anything of you - “

“That’s not true, _I do_ ,” Emma uttered the words as if she could taste their toxicity and it burned like acid.

“You really should know by now we care more about you as Emma than as the Saviour,” Regina responded. 

“I’m not just talking about being the Saviour, and all the screwed up moral imperative that comes with it...I’m not even talking about me. I’m talking about what happened to _you!_ Because - because of him,” 

“Oh. That was years ago, Emma and the torture was more Owen’s idea than Hook's. Just because he brought me to him doesn’t mean he was the one twisting the dial - “

“What? _HE WAS THERE FOR THAT_?” Emma almost leapt out of her seat. Five years and he’d never said a word...She was seething again. She should never have considered a relationship with that man - let alone married him. 

“Is that not what we were talking about?” Regina asked, surprised at Emma’s reaction.

“No! No, ugh - shit! Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse,” Emma despaired and Regina refrained from telling her that he had used magic to suffocate her too when he had been the Dark One. That would not be considered diffusing the situation. “No. I was talking about Hell,” _...Oh_. “How we all followed my idiotic lead and literally walked into the jaws of Hell for him and - somehow, once again - you ended getting the shittiest deal! And now I’m just throwing that horrible trauma you endured for him back in your face.”

After a gut-wrenching pause, to her surprise, instead of recoiling at the memory, or reprimanding her stupidity, Regina just tipped her head back and... laughed. Incongruously soft, the sound was deep and rich and so warm that it cut through Emma’s despair like a hot knife through butter. 

“Oh, Emma,” she said, still laughing at the absurdity of it all, “You thought I did that for Hook? I went for _you_!”

“But, we went down for him. I mean, it was for both - “

“No, Emma,” Regina said, calmly. Too calmly, “Just you.”

“I think I’m always going to feel guilty. And responsible, as if I owe - “

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Regina spoke firmly but not harshly, looking into green eyes with a gaze that was both unyielding and empathetic, “I don’t want to hear that from you. You are not the one at fault, and even though it has taken me almost a year to see it, I'm not either...He is. And you’re right, Emma, it’s not - it’s not okay...but there’s nothing we can do. There’s not going to be any closure, and we’re just going to have to find a way to deal with that.” Emma grumbled, clenching her fists and hunching her shoulders over the table. Regina furrowed her brow, coming to a sudden realisation, “I didn’t realise it bothered you so much.”

“How could it not! Fuck, Gina, it makes me so - It bothered me so much I married a man I didn’t love because it felt like I should,” Emma couldn’t bring herself to meet the shocked expression across the table, “And you can’t tell me it doesn’t bother you too, you’re still having nightmares! And you - you won’t even let me help you.” Emma finished lamely. 

“You do help! I know I pushed you away, and I promise I’ll try to do less of that. But it was you who pulled me out of there - like some knight in shining armour,” Regina stopped, remembering all her youthful imaginings of being rescued from the King’s castle by exactly that, “You kept my secret - and offered me space and safety and more than I’ve ever expected to be offered. If I never take you up it, just knowing that you’re there is enough. More than enough. I don’t need to be repaid - or owed anything - that ‘ _should_ ’ you’re feeling is just the hero bullshit in you speaking. Do us both a favour and ignore it.”

Reeling in the aftermath of the former queen’s words, Emma’s brain and heart scrambled to keep up, fighting each other the whole way; old habits were hard to break. But Regina was finally opening up to her, and although it was only a small step in the right direction, it was still a step.

“You’re phenomenal, you know that right?” Regina dipped her head and rolled her lips hiding a bashful smile before shaking her head, causing Emma to double-down and maintain her stance, “No, seriously, I mean it. All this shit and all the fucked up things that have happened to you, and you walk around with your head held high and so much damn dignity. I honestly don’t know how you do it.”

“Practice, dear. That grace was hard-won. Besides...I’ve been on quite the journey of self-acceptance since then. Or did you forget all about my evil other-half?”

Emma didn’t even smile at her pathetic attempt at humour, just frowned deeper, “See, that's exactly what I’m talking about! I should have been there for you through all that. Instead, I was just stumbling around like an idiot!“ 

“Don’t call yourself an idiot, dear, that’s my job,” Emma looked up at her, not flinching at her jest, “You were there for me - No, Emma, listen to me,” Regina spoke reverently, bowling over the blondes attempt at denial, “This has to stop. We can’t undo the past but there’s no need to live in it either. No more running and no more fear. We’re in this mess together, so you have to trust me. And trust me when I say that what that monster did - was not your fault. There is absolutely no need for either of us to feel trapped or weighed down by someone else’s actions. ”

After a heavy pause, Emma spoke, “That sounded dangerously like a hope speech, Regina.”

“Not a word of this to your Mother, or I’ll murder you,” She teased, somehow finding it with herself to smile even though her eyes were threatening tears.

“There’s the Mayor Mills I know!” Emma smiled.

“Now, I’ll ask you again. How do you feel?”

“I... yeah, I’m relieved... Or at least I will be when the divorce papers are signed,” Emma smiled and ducked her head to look out the window. 

Regina’s breath caught in her throat. The mid-morning sun streamed through the lofty windows, dancing over the surface of their lukewarm coffee and protecting their moment in its heat. Emma looked beautiful in sunlight, golden hair captured in a glowing halo and, to Regina’s surprise, given the situation, she appeared content in a way she hadn’t in years. Like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders and she wasn’t forcing herself to carry it. 

\--

_Have a nice trip! ;) - Z Xx_

Holding the sticky note, blotchy with drops of water as Regina had finally taken the opportunity shower, she glared suspiciously at the drunkenly drawn winky face beneath the text - Regina had a bad feeling about this. She was just coming to terms with the fact that she would be living in close proximity with Emma. An Emma who, latest local disaster aside, for the past week had been pushing at the boundaries of their friendship and Regina had pushed right back. A sort-of almost available Emma. Alone. For an indeterminable amount of time.

The last thing she needed was... _this_.

Her suspicions were confirmed as she sifted through the contents of her small suitcase. Besides not having taken the time to fold anything properly, which would have been enough to irritate the immaculately tidy Mayor, the actual clothes - or lack thereof - had her about to snap with rage. Regina snarled under her breath, rolling her eyes and tightening the towel around her she grabbed her phone from next to the sink. 

“Shove off, sis,” A less than enthusiastic Zelena answered after a few rings. In the background, she could hear Robyn wailing as Zelena grouchily whinged, lilting accent more pronounced than usual, “I have to say, drinking is a lot less fun when there’s no magic to cure your hangover in the morning.” 

“Good, a horrible hangover is exactly what you deserve,” Regina responded, her annoyance evident. 

“Rude, what’s got you all hostile and evil-y this morning?” Her sister griped back.

Bristling, Regina was determined not to rise to petty bickering. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that you’ve sent me away with nothing but the contents of my lingerie drawer.”

“Oh, that’s not true there are some clothes in there,” Zelena said, sounding too amused with herself to hear Regina mutter _'Barely!',_ “I just thought since you and Emma are going to be alone, and she clearly has issues with the pirate, you might as well - “

“Zelena, I swear to god this isn’t funny,“ Regina gritted out a threat and rubbed her throbbing temples. Was there anyone left in the town that didn’t want to interfere on her and Emma’s relationship?

“Don’t blame me! I was drunk, and at the time I thought it was a brilliant idea - actually, hold on. Yep, It’s still a bit funny,” Zelena said with such glee, and Regina really felt it should have been followed by an evil cackle and a high pitched ‘ _And your little dog, too_.’ 

“The whole damn town is falling apart and you - _Ugh_!” Regina growled, throwing her spare hand in the air, “You are completely useless in a crisis!”

“And you’re mean,” Zelena moaned, and Regina could so easily picture her pout in her mind's eye, “So is she awake then?”

“Yeah, she’s fine. Bounced back like she always does,” Regina said fondly into the phone, the talk of Emma easing her down from the heights of rage. 

“Oh, well hurrah. That's fab for her,” Zelena drawled sarcastically, “Meanwhile, we’re up to our ears in shit and running off of no sleep. The only saving grace is that Princess Perfect got the power back up so at least the coffee machines are working.”

“Be nice,” Regina scolded, “On a serious note, Z...how bad is it? I think Mal was being overly gentle with me when I spoke to her.”

She heard a sigh form the other side of the phone, and Zelena’s voice became sobered, “No change, really. The Dragon is calm, but can’t get back to human form. Once he figures that out though, Mal is hoping he will be able to help her get a grip on the magic, seeing as he was able to master magic in this land before. Other than that, we’ve been up all night trying to round people up and do a headcount of new arrivals.”

“New arrivals? Surely it’s just the dragon and the munchkins?” Regina asked.

The line fell quiet, and Regina could hear the cogs turning in Zelena’s head. The same creeping feeling that perhaps something was being kept from her flashed in the periphery of her mind. 

“How many others? From where?” Regina asked, cutting her to the chase. 

“Look they are leaving me a bit out the loop - and that _is_ the truth. I don’t really know anything. Mal and princess Charming are leading the charge - but without magic, it’s proving to be quite difficult. I’m just on babysitting duty.”

“It's a dark day when the Wicked Witch is the best babysitter in town.”

“You’re telling me,” Zelena griped, before dropping her sarcasm for a brief moment, “Seriously, everything has stabilised a bit and I think it’s just going to be a waiting game. So try and relax and - ”

“Try and relax?” Regina repeated, incredulously. 

“Yeah, you know, _Unwind_. Try not to get too tense. Keep your blood pressure down. Have a drink. If you’re not going to seduce the saviour, wank one off the wrist - “

“Zelena!” She said, aghast and looking appalled at the phone.

“I mean it, I know you, sis. You’ll just simmer in worry. We’re slowly coming to terms with the fact that this could go on for weeks,” Zelena ignored Regina’s strangled moan at the idea, “And unless you want Emma to cause a tsunami or something as equally ridiculous, you’re going to have to come to terms with waiting in New York. So I don’t know, find a way to pass the time. I was just trying to offer up some of the more enjoyable options.”

“You are insufferable,” the brunette pinched the bridge of her nose, counting backwards from ten before asking, “Is Henry there? Put him on the phone, I need to speak to an adult.”

“Sorry, sis, he finally crashed. Unless you want me to wake him up?”

“No, no, let him sleep. But, have him text me later. And - “

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Zelena interrupted, “Call you if anything changes. We will. Love ya.” 

“You better, for all I have to put up with,” and the line went dead.

“We have to go shopping!” Regina called out into the flat, having managed to wrangle up some form of an outfit from what her sister had left her with. She pulled at the hem of her skirt that, thank the lord, reached her knees but only made it in the suitcase because the slit up the side went high enough that the tops of her stockings were visible whenever she sat down. The burgundy silk halter neck with its open front and small lace cami underneath was not much better.

“Why? Oh - “ Emma’s voice died in her throat, her mouth going dry again though this time it had nothing to do with severe dehydration nor smoke inhalation, and a lot more to do with the fact that Regina was in her room looking like sex on legs. 

“Would you believe this is all I could put together out of everything Zelena packed! And with no magic - That’s the last time I let her do anything after a bottle of scotch - actually, scratch that. That’s the last time I let her do anything, _period_.”

“That explains why I had very little clothing in my suitcase. I had to dig out these from the back of my closet - and before you say they haven’t been washed in four years, I know. But I did use febreeze,” Emma gestured to her own flannel and torn jeans. Regina bit her lip against a smile - the outfit was so Emma Swan, that she could have mistaken the older version for the twenty-eight-year-old that appeared on her doorstep in the middle of the night six years previous. 

“Wait, wait, wait, Back up, You let Zelena pack your bag? No, - you let DRUNK Zelena pack your bag? What possessed you to do that!”

“Yes, well I was distraught,” Regina swatted at her, giving her a look that made it clear she was going to find a way to blame the blonde for her misfortune, “Next time I won’t worry so much.”

“As if you could, Madame Mayor,” Emma teased back, “Can I borrow your phone? I should really call my mom.”

Regina nodded, handing her the device before pulling her laptop from her briefcase - at least Henry had remembered to pack the important stuff. Her inbox was disturbingly empty considering they were in the midst of an infrastructural crisis. She’d managed to respond to a few damage reports, approve a few reparation grants but it wasn’t long until the Mayor had run out of ways to help long-distance. Emma had finished her conversation with Snow and had lain across the sofa, feet dangling over the side and her head on a pillow by Regina’s side, watching as she flipped mindlessly through tabs on her laptop, flinging eyes time she tapped her nails impatiently against the keys. They had tried at small talk, but Regina was overly occupied by her empty inbox and the lack of text messages from Henry. 

“Okay, that’s it” Emma declared, swinging her feet over the arm of the sofa, and shutting the lid of Regina’s laptop as she tried to refresh her email for the third time that minute.

“Hey! What if something important - “

“Then they will call you,” Regina twisted her lips against a frown, and reached for her phone before opening the e-mail app. Emma rolled her eyes and grabbed the device out of her hand, “Nope. Listen, I really, _REALLY_ hate to admit it - but Zelena is right. We need to - Hey, don’t look at me like that!”

“I’ll stop glaring when you stop saying Zelena was right,” Regina responded, trying to grab her phone back. 

“What I was going to say is that we’re not doing ourselves any good just sitting here worrying to the point of obsession.”

“Obsession?! My town is falling apart, our son - “

“I know. I know - Believe me, no one feels worse about it than me,” Emma expressed, “But both Henry and Storybrooke are in good hands. And we’re gonna go crazy here if we don’t do something.”

“Well, Miss Swan, what would you suggest?” Regina crossed her arms, not thrilled to have to admit that Emma had a point. She was beginning to feel like a caged animal and a distraction from her expanding anxiety would be more welcome than she was letting on. 

“Take Zelena’s advice,” Regina quirked an eyebrow and wondered if Emma would be saying that if she had actually heard the full extent of what Zelena’s advice entailed, and not just what Regina had summarised as ‘ _try and relax_.’ “I mean, we’re in New York, we could go do something touristy?”

“I’ve been to New York before, Emma.”

“Yeah, usually because there’s some magical emergency - and not that this isn’t a magical emergency. We just can’t actually _do_ anything about it right now. And I’m not really thrilled at the prospect of losing my mind waiting for updates.”

“Alright,” Regina agreed against her better judgement, “What should we do?”

“Anything you want to see? Empire State Building? Museums?” The blonde suggested. 

After a pause, Regina replied, “Take me to the apple tree in Central Park - Henry told me about it. Or maybe,” Regina faltered, looking unsure, “Maybe Henry’s old school?”

“Really?” Emma asked, “We can, but it’s Saturday so the gate will be locked.”

“I know, I just have all these fake imaginings in my head of what his life was like here. About what that year was like for him and for you - it would be nice to have some real images to go with them.”

Struck by the unfairness of it, Emma suddenly felt appalled at how embarrassed Regina seemed to be by asking for this. She had selflessly given Emma her memories of Henry’s early years and created a perfectly curated life for them both, and Emma had never made the effort to include Regina in the year she missed out on. 

_I am an ass. And officially the word co-parent ever._

“Okay. Okay, we can do that. We’ve had a shitty morning, maybe a walk down memory lane will cheer us both up,” Emma said, nodding, suddenly feeling very antsy to get Regina out of the house and show her every place they ever went, “Is there anywhere else. We’ve got all day.”

“Just, show me...Show me what it was like - where you went. What you did,” Regina’s voice was shy and timorous, like she might be asking to intrude on something private. If anything that strengthened Emma’s resolve. 

“Alright,” Emma said, wracking her brain for ideas as she slapped her hands on her legs and stood, offering her hands, “Prepare yourself, Mayor Mills, for the full Emma Swan New York Experience!”

\--

The stroll through Central Park to Henry’s apple tree quickly morphed into a languid exploration of the city. They went past Henry’s old school and Regina was an endless stream of questions about Henry and Emma, soaking up Emma’s answers and anecdotes like she would soak up the afternoon sun once it broke through a chilly morning. 

Aimless wandering through semi-familiar streets while chatting about their son was enough to relieve some of the tension of the day. The weighted blanket of sadness and nervousness receded as they disappeared into the crowd of Manhattan on a Saturday. In fact, as the afternoon stretched on, Regina was smiling more and more, taking impulsive turns down streets that piqued her interest or popping into shops with wonderful displays. Emma told Regina she thought she made a natural tourist, and the brunette had confessed that she had considered travelling but there just was never the time.

“Do you think that would look good in the living room?” Regina asked, pointing to one of the pieces of art in the window, featuring a blue horse, glowing against a dark background. 

“I’m not so good with art - “ Emma started. 

“Don’t be silly, what’s there to be good with? When you look at it, do you like it? Does it make you feel something?” 

Humouring her, Emma stared at it dutifully, and she had to admit it was beautiful. Regina took a picture of it, asking Emma to remember where the gallery was in case she decided to come back and purchase the painting. 

They managed to get a table at one of the nicer restaurants she and Henry would eat at, which was nothing short of a miracle for Saturday night. Emma suspected it had something to do with the fact they were eating lunch at four-thirty in the afternoon, but decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially as the sudden variety of different cuisine that suddenly became available to Regina had the woman wide-eyed with excitement, creating a list of recipes she’d try when they went home. 

Wandering around after their meal, they found themselves in front of a familiar ticket booth. Emma didn’t say anything about the personal significance of the weathered and neglected tourist trap. Instead, while Regina looked for their evening’s entertainment, Emma looked longingly at the stack of booklets where ‘ _THE MET_ ’ was emblazoned in the corner of a vaguely recognisable piece of art. It must have been something famous, as Emma was sure she had seen it before, but vases and flowers stirred up nothing like the painted princess that had once looked up at her from her glossy surface, folded away in the slot that was now full of floral still-lifes. 

“Did you two see many shows?” Regina asked flipping the pamphlet she was currently reading. Another question about her life with Henry, and Regina was clinging to each scrap of information Emma was giving her like a precious gems that could be ripped from her grasp again at any moment. Emma had, when they returned to the newly cursed Storybrooke, been insistent on how happy the pair had been in New York and it was becoming apparent that Regina hadn’t forgotten those claims as readily as Emma had.

 _Fuck, we really should have done this sooner,_ Emma thought, guiltily. 

“A few, yeah. You know how much of a sucker Henry is when it comes to an epic story,” Emma jested and ignored the sideway glance she received at calling their son a sucker, “ _Beauty and the Beast_?”

“No,” Regina said, crinkling her nose and flipping through the next row down of glossy pamphlets in their cracked plastic holders, “I get enough grief from them without adding dancing cutlery to the mix.”

“What about _Wicked_?” Emma asked slyly, knowing she was going to get a rise out of the other woman at the suggestion.

“Absolutely not!” Regina laughed, snatching the taunting green paper out of Emma's hands as she waved it in her face, “After Zelena’s little suitcase stunt, I refuse to give her any undue sympathy.”

“Okay, no fairy tales,” Emma said, going back to the sun-bleached advertisements for inspiration, “Damn, that doesn’t leave us many options. Since when did Disney own Broadway?”

“What about that one?” Regina pointed to the stack of worn pamphlets with a collage of pictures, all black and white and all of women in various states of undress and heavy makeup. 

“Uhhhhh, I’m not sure ‘ _Chicago’_ is the way to go. A bunch of women in prison for killing their husbands and boyfriends - hits a little too close to home, doncha think?” But Regina had already pulled the pamphlet out of its plastic prison, and gave her a conspiratorial look through raised eyebrows.

“It can’t possibly hit any closer to home than ‘ _Beauty and the Beas_ t’ or ‘ _Wicked._ ’ I do know the story, dear. Perhaps it’ll be cathartic,” she suggested and Emma knitted her brow doubtfully, “At least the music is good and if you don’t like the plot you can simply enjoy the costumes,” Emma knitted brow untangled as her eyebrows rose skywards. She pulled out yet another pamphlet, something she thought might be more up the regal woman’s street, her hands becoming increasingly full of peeling photo paper, “Before you even try with that one, Miss _Swan Lake_ , you will not convince me you ever took Henry to see a ballet.”

“Okay fine. You sure you don’t want to see a Shakespeare instead? ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,’ and all,” Emma asked and Regina laughed.

“That was William Congreve, dear,” Regina said and Emma gave her an impressed look, “What? I had twenty-eight years to catch up on classic literature. What’s your excuse, my darling philistine?”

Emma didn’t know what her excuse was, but she _did_ know that if Regina was going to call her ‘my darling’ she was going to get whatever she wanted. So they left the ticket booth with its slimy vendor who hid behind smeared handprints on scratched plastic screens, tickets in hand. 

A few hours later, against her better judgement, she had to admit that Regina had been right. Murderous flapper girls had turned out to be exactly the right entertainment - and in a bizarre way it was cathartic. The number of old movies that the former Queen had subjected Emma to should have been a tip-off that she would enjoy it. They exchanged a slightly weighted look during the ‘ _Cell Block Tango_.’ A chorus of, “They had it coming,” resonating a little too clearly for both women, but the heart drop passed quickly, much to Emma’s surprise and Regina was right back to laughing along. When Emma asked her about it later at the bar, Regina had simply shrugged.

“I have plenty of practice being critical about storytelling and just enjoying a story for what it’s worth. Believe it or not, Emma, even I need a little validation now and then. And, I’m in a much better place than I was - when that would have been a problem,” Regina managed to give her a smile, “Besides, the whole song and dance does make it hard to take it completely seriously. Although, that being said, I liked the fosse chair dancing. Do you think they teach classes on that? I’ve got the outfit ready and waiting, thanks to Zelena.”

Emma coughed into her drink at the mental image that came to her with too little effort. Spluttering a little she tried to regain some of her lost dignity, “You think at your age you’ve got the flexibility for that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Regina preened smugly over the rim of her glass. 

“I’d love to know what Maleficent did to deserve you,” Emma said, perhaps too bitterly, but they had been drinking for a few hours and she was loose-lipped with inebriation. 

“What? Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you amongst, well, everything, that’s happened,” Regina twisted the stem of her glass in her fingers, looking off a little distractedly, “Maleficent and I, well we are no longer together - not that we’ve been a real couple since the Enchanted Forest - But whatever we've been doing the past week, well, I ended it.”

“Oh - What? Wait, - why?” Emma blurted before catching onto the cheerless undercurrent to her statement, “I mean - I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be, dear,” Regina uttered with gloomy resignation, “It’s my fault, I wasn’t being fair to Mal - I’ve never been very fair to her, I don’t think...Anyway, I was using her a little bit and I had to put a stop to it before it got serious.”

Emma had a lot she wanted to say to that. Using her for what? Was whatever relationship they had ever in danger of becoming serious? Did that mean that Regina was...available? Deciding those questions would lead down rocky roads, she settled for simply blurting, 

“I kind of thought you were straight,” And _oh, god, the alcohol was really going to her head._

“Don’t be absurd!” Regina gawked, thinking it was a joke. 

“I _did!_ ” Emma insisted, and Regina was starting to laugh at the look of dead seriousness in the blonde’s face, “I mean there were times I thought you might not be. But I never really had any proof and Robin rocked up and then I just wrote them off as - What? What’s so funny?”

“Nothing! Nothing, I just can’t believe - ” Regina had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep her laughter from reaching what some might consider raucous. Because it was, in fact, absurd. Absurd that she could have weathered years of sexual tension and somehow her partner in crime had misinterpreted it. Absurd how she could have flirted so openly and made her reliance on Emma more than obvious, only to be left to wonder at how the blonde could have possibly not read into it as anything beyond friendship. Catching her breath and clutching her aching sides she finally managed to get control of what she thought might have been simultaneously the funniest and most depressing thing she had ever heard, “I suppose that explains why you could never take a hint.”

Take a hint? What did that - _Oh_. Emma’s heart rate skyrocketed. 

“We’re a mess, aren’t we?” Emma managed, looking at Regina with a sad smile. 

“I’ll drink to that,” Regina responded, taking a hearty swig from her glass “I like it here,” Regina admitted, after sipping the last of her appletini. Emma had laughed like the weight of the world wasn’t resting on her shoulders when the former queen had ordered the drink; _“You are not subtle at all._ ” Regina had simply insisted that she had grown a taste for them after the Evil Queen incident, or she at least appreciated their dramatic flare. 

“Really? I mean there are classier bars that would probably be more your style - and I do have to admit it’s a bit embarrassing were here on Eighties Night - but you said to show you what I used to do, and this was - unfortunately - my dive.”

“I actually wasn’t referring to the bar, Emma. Although, it is very you,” Regina gestured around to the exposed brick and big industrial iron pillars that split the large space. A dizzying array of old band posters decorated the walls, and large steel lighting fixtures dangled over the well-stocked bar. There was a darker corner that housed a small dance floor, but the vibes were much more laid back than the heaving clubs of the city, “I was talking about New York in general. It’s enormous and dirty, and obnoxiously loud but...it is quite relaxing to feel like you could simply disappear into it.”

Emma nodded. She knew the feeling. 

“Sorry, ladies, time to settle the tab. It’s the last songs of the night,” The bartender said, glancing at the clock behind the bar which read four am. 

“Is that the time already?” Regina blinked at the clock in disbelief. The last time she had watched a clock behind a bar, the time had trudged at an unbearable pace. Now here she was, a few hundred miles away, wishing it would slow down and they could hide in this night forever. 

“Thanks, Jasper,” Emma said with forgotten familiarity. 

“ _I knew it_!” The bartender said, slapping the bar, “You look a little different, but I’ve been thinking all night that’s gotta be her. How have you been Emma? It’s been years! How’s the kid?”

“Henry’s great, although almost not a kid anymore. Which is...very disturbing,” Emma shuddered and she saw Regina nod out the corner of her eye. 

“Kids do that. But I see you haven’t changed,” If only he knew just how much she had changed, “Still here at closing on a Saturday, with another hot date.”

“Jas, we’re not - ” Emma said, flushing as Regina gave her intrigued sideways glance.

“Although, I am surprised you haven’t danced at all,” _Oh no_ , Emma was glaring daggers at the man she had once considered her friend and who was now perhaps joining her very long list of enemies, “Usually you’d be up there after one drink.” 

“Really? Did she now?” Regina said, gearing up to mock the blonde with raised eyebrows, speaking slowly and tantalisingly in a way that was oddly reminiscent of her scheming Madame Mayor days. She turned back to the barman, eyes set, “Do you take requests?” 

“Not normally, but for anyone Emma Swan brings in here, we can probably manage something - provided it fits in the theme, though,” He gestured to the bolted behind the bar with its disco ball clip art that said, “ _Rewind Back to the ’80s!_ ” She cringed. 

“Regina! You can’t be serious?” Emma gaped at her incredulously. 

“If this lovely gentleman says you dance with all your dates, I’d hate to be left out,” Regina flashed her what Emma knew to be a put-on pout. Then turning to Jasper, she leaned over the bar, silk shirt falling open to show a little more of the lace beneath, she blinked rapidly as she cajoled the poor, unsuspecting bartender into doing her bidding. She whispered her request and winked and Emma actually felt sorry for the poor man. 

“That’s actually not a bad closing song...” He hummed, and Emma had an instinct to hide in the bathroom until they shut the joint for the night, “I’ll see what I can do. Good luck, Emma, make sure you treat her like a queen.”

“Believe me, that’s not a problem,” Emma muttered before downing the rest of her drink in one smooth motion, “Well, that was mortifying. Shameless. You are shameless.”

“Perhaps, but I always get my way. Now,” Regina slipped off the barstool, tugging her purse over her shoulder, offering a hand out to the blonde, “You promised me the full Emma Swan treatment, I intend to collect.”

“You’re kidding,” Emma said, but despite her protests, she let the older woman pull her to the small dance floor. 

“Anything but, I’m afraid,” Regina said, as the music changed and the DJ announced this would be the last dance and Regina settled her arms around Emma’s shoulders, “Come on, Miss Swan, you insisted on teaching me all these horrible dance moves. It would be a shame to let all that effort go to waste.”

_Here’s to us one more toast and then we’ll pay the bill_

“ABBA? Seriously?” Emma snickered, raising her eyebrows in disbelief, “How do you even know about ABBA?”

“Dear, I cursed the town in the eighties. I had twenty-eight long, agonising years of ABBA still being the height of popularity,” Regina said with a roll of her eyes. 

“That sounds - awful.”

“Well, it was meant to be a _curse_. The intention wasn’t enjoyment,” she said slyly, “Why do you think I broke almost the whole A section on the jukebox at Grannies - except this one. I like this one.” 

Punctuating her statement with a rhythmic roll of her hips, pushing their dancing past the plains of platonic that so frequently resided in. Emma was grateful there was only so sexy one could look dancing to ABBA, otherwise, she probably would have had a heart attack. That being said, Regina still managed to make it look like an act of public indecency. Not that Emma was complaining, there had been a time not too long ago when she had watched the witch dance with someone else and she had burned with jealousy. Now it was her arms she was spinning into, her she was laughing with as they made fools of themselves in front of strangers. 

Storybrooke crumbling seemed like a different life as the music and lights and Regina and the odd feeling of coming full circle filled every corner of the Saviour’s mind.

_Standing calmly at the crossroads, no desire to run_   
_There’s no hurry any more When All Is Said And Done_

“Here I was thinking Henry got his tendency to play vintage pop to girls from Neal,” Narrowing her eyes in playful accusation, “It was you all along, wasn’t it?” 

“Of course not! I will not be held up to such ridicule,” Regina articulated with mock vexation. Then she smiled, a little mischievously, entwining their fingers again and popping off the back of her heels onto her toes so her mouth was level with Emma’s ear, “Although...” She whispered, still swaying to the music “If it worked once on you, who is to say it won’t again?”

\--

The air was heavy and sweet, the warm hug of humidity mingling with the first smells of autumn leaves. It was still warm, the last strains of summer had yet to fade keeping the inevitable chill at bay. So the weather must not have been the reason Regina kept her arm so firmly wrapped around Emma’s waist as they strolled through lamplit streets. 

They must have walked for miles because when they finally left the busy sidewalk for smaller stretches of pavement winding under a leafed canopy, Regina’s heels were beginning to sting. So she was not ashamed to show her relief when they sat on a park bench before the shining white limestone of City Hall that stood bright as a beacon in the last moments of darkness before twilight. 

“It’s bizarre how you can’t see any stars,” Regina asked, toeing off her heels and elegantly lifting her legs to rest on the bench between them. “How do you ever get used to that?”

“Sometimes I think I prefer the city lights to stars. We don’t know what’s going on with the stars - at least city lights, well, there’s a person behind each window. When I was a kid, looking in to see other people’s lights on used to make me feel so alone, because I had no idea what it was like to have a home, you know? Now I do - well, it’s the opposite. Everyone has got their own precious life behind their little lit-up window...to see so many of them at once, well, I feel a little bit more grateful for mine. Does that make sense?”

Regina hummed, “Perhaps. Although I think most of those are probably offices, dear.”

“You don’t sound convinced. Got something against skyscrapers?”

“I do, actually,” Regina said simply, receiving a baffled look from the blonde, “I mean look at them. All that glass, they just look so fragile. Why would you put something so breakable so high up? It makes no sense and honestly is just asking for trouble - Hey, don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m sorry,” Emma said through her disbelieving chuckle, “It’s just - the indomitable Mayor Mills: Afraid of glass buildings.”

Prodding the ticklish side of the blonde’s waist with a stockinged foot in retaliation and watching as she squirmed, Regina retaliated “I’m not _afraid_ of them. I just wonder why tempt fate? There are sturdier building materials. Perhaps consider something that couldn’t be smashed to pieces by a particularly angry ogre? That’s why we built castles out of stone.”

“Yes but it’s not always as pretty. Plus, you know there’s like concrete and steel in there too, right? It’s not just glass - though that being said, glass can be pretty strong. Hell, in Chicago there’s a building where you can walk out on a glass floor on like the hundredth storey. No one’s ever fallen through,” Regina frowned as if she couldn’t imagine anything worse, “Besides, we don’t have ogres in this world.”

“Yes, thank you, I’m well aware,” Regina rolled her eyes, tutting.

“Well, do me a favour and put all that aside for like fifteen minutes because any second now - Look! There,” Emma said pointing past the grandiose white building that was right in front of them to the skyline beyond.

“I can’t see anything,” Regina responded.

“That’s because you’re on the wrong side of the bench, get over here,” Emma opened her arm and after only a second’s hesitation, Regina swivelled her legs to the other side and scooted into her. Following green eyes’ gaze, she didn’t flinch when Emma’s arm tightened around her shoulder pulling her closer; the blondes touch becoming no less exciting but definitely less foreign. In the forest of grey-blue glass and red brick was a splash of brilliant and lustrous orange, setting the mirrored sky ablaze.

“The sunrise? We’re facing North, dear, if we wanted to watch the sunrise we could just turn around.“

“Can you not get technical for like five seconds, just look. Something about the way it reflects off the buildings - wait and watch, you’ll see. Trust me it’ll be worth it,” Emma said, and that was enough for Regina to nestle into her side, settling and watching the flaming orange line grow. 

“Believe it or not, I don’t catch a lot of sunrises - “

“Shocking,” Regina deadpanned, well aware of Emma’s ability to sleep in.

“Haha, very funny. I always just think they’re a little overrated. But...the view from here is definitely my favourite, it almost makes me wish I could be bothered to get up for more of them.”

“No you’re not really a rise with the dawn person,” Regina chuckled and the blonde felt it in her chest as much as she heard it, “You’re more of a sleep through the alarm, wake up late and scramble into the already well established day, rushed and underprepared kind of person. Your sleeping habits are, quite frankly, appalling.”

“Yeah, well, while I would normally agree with you, I would get up every morning to watch the sunrise from here.”

Above them, the sky had shifted from velvety indigo to the clear blue of an autumn’s morning. Golden light cut through the blue hour's residual muted light. It was still gradual, the change slow as the stretch of the flaming stripe of tangerine light spread and shifted into a hundred shades of gold. Regina had to admit, the display of colour on the vast panes was breathtaking, the buildings’ corners catching hues of peachy pink and cornflower blue, shimmering and dazzling as they glinted back the sunrise like an enormous mirror. 

“Tonight has been wonderful...Do you still sometimes wish you had stayed?” The question was almost timid, and Regina knew she was perhaps a little afraid of the answer.

“Nope” Emma answered with ease, “I’d take our insane storybook lifestyle over New York. No question.”

“I’m being serious. Even with, what did you call it earlier, the ‘screwed up moral imperative’ of being the Saviour? I know it can be a lot of pressure. Anyone would want to run away and disappear in this city. Even I can see the appeal of anonymity, of relative safety, of the world at your fingertips,” Regina confessed, “Who wouldn’t want that?”

“Once upon a time, maybe, but now...” Emma shook her head, “Not me. No more running, remember?”

“I know how special that year with Henry was for you - so important you almost went back to it,” The hint of doleful melancholy crept back into luminous eyes that had been shining so brightly and Emma was desperate to pull in back out again, “It’s okay if you still think that would have been a better life. I’m almost inclined to agree with you. Can you be sure that - “

“I am. Regina, I’m not sure about a lot of things. I mean - I feel like half my life I have no idea what the hell is going on,” Emma threw her hands up in exasperation, before verifying her statement with a firm nod, “But this, I am one-hundred-percent positive about. We belong in Storybrooke.”

“Even when it feels this good to run away?... How can you be so certain?”

Emma knew the answer, and a part of her couldn’t believe she was actually going to say it. But the other part, the louder part, felt that it had been too long coming. 

“Do you know how I know about this place? How I know exactly where to sit to watch the sunrise?” 

She should be terrified. Scared Shitless. Her voice should be shaky with vulnerability. She should be ready to recoil or simply blag her foot our her mouth as was her pattern whenever their conversations edged to close to revealing her feelings. But her brain, which usually ran a mile a minute when it came to Regina, was as serene and tranquil as the glistening cityscape before them, enjoying a rare moment of quiet before it would inevitably spring to life again with bustle. 

Perhaps it was their earlier conversation, finally having so much clear air between them. Emma had a feeling it had more to do with the way the brunette was looking at her. It was the same look that had caught her attention, captured frozen in the picture that had been the lone decoration on her fridge. The look she was starting to realise she might have missed more than once. 

The two things were not wholly unrelated, and the Saviour had little interest in unpacking the situation any further at that moment. Because then and there, Regina was clinging to the blondes every word as tightly as she was clinging to her side and whatever it was that she had unburied in Regina’s usually well-covered gaze was egging her on. 

Regina shook her head, somehow picking up on the importance of what Emma was about to say, attuned to her in a way no one else was. 

“I used to come here all the time. Whenever I felt lonely, or like something was missing, or, I don’t know, even when I was happy and wanted someone to share it with. Obviously, I didn’t get why at the time, and everything was such a big mess in my head when I got my memories back - but I know now,” Emma took a deep breath, pausing in one of her rare moments of eloquence, “I was looking for you.”

“W - Why?” Regina asked, unguarded eyes open wide, that shining something spreading like ink over wet paper, pushing out the melancholy, her voice shaking with hopeful anticipation. 

_She should stop_ , Emma thought. 

Flirting was one thing - they’d been doing that since day one. Albeit, a little disjointedly, but it was at least familiar territory. But lines like this they didn’t cross. Maybe toe at them dangerously and vaguely allude to what might be on the other side, but run at them head-on with the full intention of jumping to the other side like she was doing now was out of the question. Love was out of the question. _Except..._

“Because,” the blonde tore her gaze away from the glaring brilliance of a city sunrise, much preferring the view of Regina’s face bathed in the early morning light. The line was getting closer and her voice was getting a little wobbly, but she ploughed forward, “Yeah, our life was great here. And we were sort of happy. Honestly, I’m not sure at that point I had a good enough baseline for what happiness is to have been making those kinds of statements. But part of me knew it wasn’t right, that something - something big and important - was missing. And that was you. So it turns out that even with the most perfect memories, the most perfect life, and the most perfect son - Well, Regina, it turns out I can’t live happily ever after without you.”

Regina’s heart forgot how to beat. Her chest felt alive, her heart fizzy and sparkling and her throat jumped as she pulled in each swooning breath. It was the same exhilaration one gets on the first day of spring, like sunshine through south-facing windows, her whole body tingling with vitality for life. 

Of course, that is very hard to explain, and all Regina’s short-circuiting brain could manage was an encouraging squeeze of her fingers in Emma’s and a breathy, “Oh, Emma - “

A gurgling behind them and the release of air pressure stopped whatever she was going to say.

“ _Shit_ ,” Emma muttered, the moment broken. A nagging reminder of the repercussions of crossing the line was kept at bay as the sprinklers that kept City Park’s grass alive throughout the summer heat sprung to life with jets of water. 

Squeaking in shock, jaws dropped and eyes wide as they leapt to their feet to escape the spray of ground warmed water. Regina’s mouth was agape, reeling from a close confession of love and being pulled out of its embrace so abruptly. But even a shocking sprinkle of reality couldn’t douse what had been so readily offered and exposed. 

Emma was laughing again at the look on her face as warm water dripped from the side of her head. As was often the case when one didn’t know what to do, all Emma could do was laugh. The release of emotions brilliant and light and it was that very laughter that had Regina moving towards her again. Reaching up with steady hands, the only tremor was in her inhale as she finally, finally, leaned forward, pulling Emma towards her so she could firmly press her lips against hers. 

The kiss was anchoring and fierce, she spent a moment simply revelling in awe at the warm touch of Emma’s lips and waiting to see if her galloping heart was really going to break free from her chest like it was threatening to do. Emma was in a similar state, her mouth tingled and burned and her heart was practically vibrating between her lungs that struggled to remember how to capture oxygen.

Pulling back a hair’s width and sliding her hands from Emma’s hot blushing cheeks to tangle into her golden mane, Regina surged forward again with more urgency, her own mouth slightly parted as it glided over the blonde’s. Passionate to the point of desperation, she pressed against her with everything she had.

Emma came to life under the bruising kiss, stripping free of the last of her tentative restraints and pulling the older woman’s hips. Moaning into her mouth, she nipped at the painted lips, catching lipstick and the metallic taste of swollen skin under her teeth as the scent of freesia and patchouli and something so distinctly Regina washed over her. 

Kissing Regina was every bit as glorious as she had imagined it to be, and the distinct possibility that this could all be an elaborate dream nagged in Emma's mind. But the very real vibration of the woman she had loved for years groaning against her quickly shooed that thought from her mind. 

Gasping and moaning in the minimal breadth between each volley of the kiss that got more and more heated, Regina sagged against the saviour, knees growing weak and starting to fail beneath her. Strong arms tightened around her waist and hands began to wander, mapping out the sloping curve of her back and gripping at her like she was a lifeline. Running her tongue along the soft and malleable lines of Regina’s mouth, drawing with the muscle what she had spent the past six years memorising with her eyes, stopping to catch underneath the scar on her top lip. 

“Em-ma,” Regina gasped into her mouth, gravelly and breathy like a sound of worship. Her shaky sigh, hot and ardent, woke part of Emma that had been eagerly waiting in the wings made itself known, swooping in her lower stomach and fluttering heat pulled her attention lower. As much as she wanted to give in to the crackling and scorching blaze that threatened to spring to life, she clung to what little remained of her well-crafted self-restraint and simply panted as Regina rested her cheek on Emma’s. The contrast of their lightly brushing skin and burning lips capturing the blonde completely, her world of perception extending no further than the woman in her arms. 

“Years,” Regina sighed, pecking at her lips with another open-mouthed kiss and swooning in her arms, “I’ve been waiting years for that.”

“I love you,” the words were tumbling out her mouth before she could stop them, and she had the most bizarre instinct to reach out and catch them in the air and pull them back. 

She expected them to sit heavy in the air, zapping up all the oxygen with their weighty significance. Six years of pent up emotion should be dragging behind them like a ball and chain, a weight of over-complicated consequences, of carefully trained instincts to pull away or put up walls. Instead, standing firmly on the far side of every line they’d never crossed, for the first time, it felt like they both could finally breathe. 

Luminous eyes, rich and golden in the morning light, crinkled at their edges as a delightful, full smile spread across Regina’s face like the stretch of light spreading across the skyline. 

“You don’t have to say it back or anything,” Emma rushed, licking her lips and oh, god, they tasted of Regina, “I just didn’t want you to think you were, I don’t know, a rebound, or anything less than what you are and that’s...I’ve loved you for a long time.”

“Oh, Miss Swan,” she spoke the name with reverence, brushing flyaway blonde hairs from green eyes. The look of gentle pining that Regina had been casting her way all evening seemed muted and pale in the light of the look she was giving her now, “Of course I love you. I suppose, perhaps, I’ve been trying to tell you for ages. Not that I had a lot of hope for - well, this,” she gestured at the mere inched of space between them, “But everything I’ve done for you was to make you feel loved.”

“Me too. I feel the same,” she responded, pulling at the brunette's waist to fill any lingering space between them, “Ever think of maybe - using words? Would have saved us a lot of trouble.”

“Oh, well that’s rich,” Regina pushed playfully at her, but Emma’s embrace tightened and Regina settled for resting her head against the red leather on her shoulder. 

True, there was perhaps a lot left unaddressed. A lot of consequences simply didn’t disappear because they had escaped the constricting confines of their small town. But life on the other side of the line was every bit the glorious reprieve Emma had imagined it would be. None of it seemed so daunting now she had Regina in her arms, heels in her hand, soles still littered with little puddles of water. 

“You should put your shoes back on,” She said, as the went to hail a taxi back to the apartment, “This is New York, who knows what trash or bits of glass or other crap we’re standing on. You could get tetanus.” 

Regina smiled at Emma’s concern but the worn edges of dusty gravel and wet grass felt smooth under her feet in comparison to what she was used to walking over. 

“I’m not worried.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)))


End file.
